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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833793">ain't there something higher</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iseekdaylight/pseuds/iseekdaylight'>iseekdaylight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the stuff of comets [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band), SM Rookies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Olympics, Angst, Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M, References to real-life figure skating events, SM Rookies friendship is still the best, Self-Discovery, figure skating AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:36:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iseekdaylight/pseuds/iseekdaylight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ji Hansol, the pioneer of many accomplishments in Korean figure skating, slowly found himself pushed to the background. With the Olympics approaching, can he make one final push before he ends his competitive career?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ji Hansol/Nakamoto Yuta, side Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, side Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the stuff of comets [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/883953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>- Oh, look! It’s a YuSol fic in the Year of the Lord 2020.</p><p>- This fic is a side story to <i>the stuff of comets</i>, and the events of this fic occur side-by-side with <i>the stuff of comets’</i> storyline. Reading <i>the stuff of comets</i> first before this fic is not necessary; in fact, you can probably read this first then refer to the original fic, or vice versa.
</p>
<p>- This is a four-year-old WIP, and I thought about not posting this because Hansol left SM Rookies, but I thought it would be a shame not to post it. I’ve decided to post it in chapters to motivate myself to finish it until the end.
</p>
<p>- The title of the fic is still from the song Leslie Odom, Jr. and Daveed Diggs sang for ESPN.
</p>
<p>- I’m not as invested in figure skating as I was before, but I’ll do my best to finish this series. After this, it will be the final side-story in Taeyong’s POV.
</p>
<p>- Infinite thanks to my eternal beta, @caramiro, for tolerating my scatterbrained self since forever.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Finally, the gala for the Four Continents Championship was over. Hansol wants nothing more but to change back into semi-formal clothes, and head to the event’s closing banquet where he can relax and drink to his heart’s content.</p><p>Fans are waiting outside the convention center, where the closing banquet will be held. He spots fans rushing toward him and calling his name. Hansol stops on his tracks to accommodate photo ops and autographs.</p><p>One of them, a Japanese auntie, gushes (in excellent Korean, he must add) over watching him in Washington five years ago. Hansol is flattered to know he still has fans from way back. “It hasn’t been a good few years for me,” he admits, settling his gaze on his signature on his photo on the program book.</p><p>“You always do your best, and that’s what matters,” she says, bowing in thanks when Hansol finishes signing her program book. “Good luck next season!” She bows again, before heading towards what looks like Uno Shoma and Hanyu Yuzuru, leading Team Japan’s arrival. He cranes his neck to look for Yuta, but their KSU liaison officer had wrapped an arm around his shoulders, dragging him inside.</p><p>He registers at the front desk, and they find their seat—Team Korea has gotten large enough these past few years that they finally have a table to themselves. Taeyong and Jaehyun wave at them and pat the empty seat next to them. “Well, well, well, the man of the hour!” Taeyong exclaims. “Got through the Potato Challenge, didn’t you?”</p><p>Hansol rolls his eyes. “We <em>do not </em>talk about this,” he says, though he’s aware that everyone is going to ask him about it when the program of the closing banquet is over.</p><p>When Hansol won the National title for the first time, there was only him and Taeyong and a couple of other skaters competing domestically. He and Taeyong would compete for the title but hung out after the competition for dinner and video games. </p><p>Fast forward to 2013, when the number of male figure skaters has turned double digits. As a small federation, it’s no use being competitive with each other all the time, and they have pondered on how to further motivate themselves to do their best without the cutthroat rivalry.</p><p>Hence, the Potato Challenge, which started as a joke. Whoever potatoes (a common figure skating fandom term for anyone who ends up in fourth place, points short of a podium finish) in Nationals should skate to a girl group song as an exhibition program for next season. (Yeaji had willingly signed up to be the choreographer.) By skating a girl group song, one meant the Potato should crossdress and go all out.</p><p>Unfortunately for Hansol, he had been a regular potato in Nationals—there was <em> Touch My Body </em>in 2015 and <em> Dumb Dumb </em>in 2016. And in the gala … Sunmi’s <em> 24 Hours</em>. </p><p>He has no one to blame but himself for screwing up his free skate last year, but if he’s going to see the positive side of things … at least Donghyuck got the potato this year.</p><p>No one pays much attention to the first half of the program, where several ISU officials give speeches. The only exception was when Kim Yuna went up to the stage to give her own speech did everyone give their undivided attention. Then came the winners’ speeches and the host country’s performance, and everyone was glad to stand up and mingle and dance.</p><p>Michael Christian Martinez of the Philippines is the first to mingle with the group, congratulating everyone before taking a group selca. Michael skips off to Team China’s table, and Jaehyun yells in greeting at someone from behind them. Hansol looks over his shoulder and brightens up when he sees Johnny and his half-brother Mark approaching them. (Johnny used to be their training mate, but now he’s Mark’s manager.) He watches Johnny blink and glance at everyone at the table, while Mark heads towards Eunji and Donghyuck’s direction. “Where did Ten go?” he asks.</p><p>Ten is from Thailand and is Johnny’s long-time best friend. Hansol had befriended Johnny in their first Junior Grand Prix assignment in Courchevel, then gotten to know Ten in Budapest a year later. He had gotten closer to them in Junior Worlds in The Hague, along with Taeyong, Yuta, and Jaehyun (who was a novice back then but had tagged along to cheer on Team Korea). Soon, they all end up training in the same rink, and the group had been inseparable ever since.</p><p>(There’s an ongoing bet among the club and the Internet as to when Johnny and Ten would end up being more than friends. Right now, Ten is awfully obvious towards his feelings and Johnny is oblivious, much to everyone’s frustration.)</p><p>“Oh, hi to you, too, Johnny,” Taeyong greets in mock hurt. “So considerate of you to remember us.”</p><p>Jaehyun is more understanding, after taking a photo of Mark and Eunji on Mark's phone. “I think he went to Denis’ table?” he says. “Ten is a social butterfly at these kinds of events.”</p><p>Johnny’s forehead crinkles as he tries to find Ten in the room. He does—Ten is making this goofy pose with Denis Ten of Kazakhstan and Alex Shibutani of the United States. There’s no denying the glint of nostalgia in Johnny’s eyes. Hansol had almost forgotten that Johnny had a premature retirement three years ago, and this was the first time he had been in a closing banquet with his friends ever since.</p><p>Hansol figures that he’ll be like Johnny anytime soon—like a stranger when he comes back to something familiar.</p><p>Ten and Yuta eventually join them, and Team VSC is complete. The rest of Team Korea aside from Donghyuck have disappeared from the table, so they have the entire table to themselves. Yuna passes by, and they all too excitedly ask her for a group photo, Ten ready with his selfie stick. She asks Johnny how he is before glancing at Hansol, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You know, when I watched your exhibition, I thought my dress looked better on you than on me.”</p><p>The entire table roars with laughter as Hansol bangs his head on the table. The first time he debuted his exhibition program at <em> All That Skate</em>, he wore a dress like one Yuna used in one of her old exhibition programs. Yuna’s reaction was priceless—a fan site had taken a picture of her jaw dropping, and it quickly became viral along with the hashtag #PrayForQueenYuna. Fortunately, though, Yuna looked like she didn’t need to be prayed over this time.</p><p>“Hopefully, that’s the last of dresses I’ll wear,” Hansol remarks, downing his glass of gin in one gulp. The room around him suddenly starts spinning. Yuna merely laughs and excuses herself when Patrick Chan calls her from the nearby table.</p><p>“Good job on breaking Yuna noona, hyung,” Donghyuck snickers. “I mean, I’m sure she has nightmares every time she sees you in drag.”</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Dongsookie. I slayed my exhibition, so that’s a lot of pressure on you for next year.” He cracks up when Donghyuck glares at him and gives him the middle finger. “Why so upset, kid? You voted for this. Do your part.”</span>
</p><p>“Fuck you,” Donghyuck says, wincing when Yuna passes by their table, an eyebrow raised. “Oh shit, I’m dead. I think I’m gonna hide in a corner now …”</p><p>“Honestly, though, Yuta surprised us all,” Ten remarks, leaning a little closer to Johnny. (Hansol wants to snort at how obvious Ten is being.) “No wonder I thought Minho looked shorter.”</p><p>Pairs skater Choi Minho was his sort-of partner during his program. There was one part of the program in which Minho would lift him up.</p><p>To his surprise a few hours ago, Minho didn’t show up—it was Yuta.</p><p>Yuta had surprisingly prepared for the program, having learned the choreography from Yeaji and Minho. Hansol was pleasantly surprised that Yuta could lift him. There were some catcalls and loud screams involved, but all Hansol remembered was the warmth of Yuta’s hand on the small of his back.</p><p>“What makes you think anyone else aside from me can grope my boyfriend?” Yuta smirks, kissing Hansol on the cheek for emphasis. Everyone laughs when Mark gags in the background.</p><p>“But tell us the truth, Hansol hyung,” Taeyong adds, laughing before he can even deliver the punchline. “Who <em> really </em>tops between the two of you?”</p><p>“Hyung!” Mark screams, almost lunging for Taeyong if not for a laughing Johnny grabbing him in time.</p><p>Eventually, the minors are set to head back to their hotel rooms, and the number of people in the convention center has halved. Yuta leans close to his ear, his breath ticklish. “Wanna dance?” he asks.</p><p>Hansol had just downed his god-knows-what glass of alcohol. His feet feel like lead, and he would like to do nothing but lie on the comfort of his bed and sleep until morning. He groans and leans his head to what is supposed to be Yuta’s shoulder, only to fall on Yuta’s lap.</p><p>“Aww, you poor baby,” Yuta chuckles, stroking Hansol’s hair, the gesture calming that Hansol is close to sleeping right then and there if Yuta hadn’t pulled him up. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.”</p><p>He manages to walk on two feet, though he leans on to Yuta for support. Fans are still waiting for them outside the convention center, greeting them for a job well done. Yuta declines all offers of autographs and photo ops. “Hansol needs to go to bed!” he announces, to soft laughter. Hansol would have been embarrassed at this, but he’s too tipsy to care.</p><p>He <em>does </em>recognize that the path they have taken is not the path to his hotel room. “Where are we?” he asks, almost slurs, though the answer becomes obvious when Yuta fishes out a key card from his pocket as soon as they stop at a door. Yuta and Yuzuru’s room. Hansol remembers the two are often roommates in all their common competitions.</p><p>“My room!” Yuta announces, pushing the door open and dragging him in, the two beds empty. “Technically, it’s Shoma’s room, but I got him to switch with me, so, yay!”</p><p>“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Hansol asks with a frown, though he doesn’t complain when Yuta shoves him to the nearest bed. “They could be challenging each other to jump quad axels now.”</p><p>Yuta climbs on top of him, but shrugs when the thought comes to his mind. “Nah, they’ll be fine. If their knees break, at least I’ll be Japan’s number one.” Hansol would have laughed at that, if not for their faces being inches away. “Hey.”</p><p>Hansol smiles back, heart pounding quickly. “Hey,” he says, breathless, before he props himself up with his elbows so their lips can meet, realizing that he isn’t the least bit concerned about Yuzuru and Shoma either.</p><p> </p><p>Hansol dreams of Worlds in London, Ontario. He comes into the short program, his head up high as he acknowledges the crowd. There are banners with his picture and flags of South Korea being waved all over Budweiser Gardens, more than the banners he recalls from last year’s Worlds in Nice.</p><p>The crowd falls silent, and he strikes his opening pose for his short program. The opening notes of <em> La Traviata </em>start to play, and he wastes no time going into his choreography, covering as much ice in the arena as possible. He is about to make history, the first South Korean man to qualify for the Olympics. He’s going to make sure he’s going to give South Korea at least one spot for Sochi.</p><p>Hansol sets up for the quad toe—he was finally able to land it cleanly in Four Continents, and he’s confident he can land it again. That’s worth 10.3 points—land it, and he’s assured of qualifying for the free skate. Right forward three turn, a vault into the air from his right back outside edge, four rotations—</p><p>He slips on the landing, and the crowd gasps as he collides with the boards. Hansol swears to himself, but gets back up, to more subdued applause. He screwed up his quad toe, but he still has his triple axel and triple lutz-triple toe combo. He should still be in the running for an Olympic spot.</p><p>Later, he falls on his triple axel but lands his triple-triple. He tries to make it up for the rest of the program; he has to get those level 4s in his spins and step sequence because every point counts now that his two strongest jumps have failed him. He can’t lose a spot. Not when it matters.</p><p>When it’s all over, he doesn’t hear applause. Hansol looks around and realizes that the crowd has disappeared, and it’s just him in the rink, the silence loud in his ears. The air around him is heavy, crushing, as voices from out of nowhere reverberate around him, telling him he had let a whole nation down.</p><p>And he can’t find the words to refute them, whoever they are.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hansol opens his eyes to sunlight basking from the large windows of his hotel room. Warm arms are wrapped around his waist, and he looks over his shoulder and smiles when he sees Yuta sleeping peacefully. He chuckles, and he looks back to what he can see past the window, the mountains of Gangneung majestic in view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers his dream, one he cannot seem to stop dreaming of, no matter how hard he tried. He remembers how noisy the airport was as Yuna walked out of the airport, with a second World title and three spots for ladies’ skating in the Winter Olympics in Sochi. He had followed suit, head low, and the applause and the noise had died down. He had deserved it. He had come into the short program, confident that he can make history, only to disappoint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol had remembered someone at the airport had yelled at him to quit skating. Looking back, maybe he should have. The following seasons were disappointment after disappointment, it was perhaps a miracle that he’s still here. He sighs. He’s set to retire anyway. That guy who yelled at him will probably be happy …</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a lot on your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol looks over his shoulder. Yuta’s eyes are wide open, and the soft smile on his face makes Hansol’s heartbeat go on overdrive. He smiles, and he hopes it doesn’t come off as a grimace. “What makes you think that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta hums contemplatively. “Because you’re staring at things,” he says, leaving a trail of kisses from Hansol’s forehead to his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The mountains in Gangneung are beautiful,” Hansol points out with a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. We should go up there when the Olympic free skate is over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Considering I make it to the Olympics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels Yuta’s arm untangle around his waist, and the bed shifts. Yuta leans against the headboard, and there’s a frown on his face. “You’ll make it,” he says. “Taeyong and Jaehyun are gonna get you three spots for next year, and Korea men’s Holy Trinity will come to Gangneung intact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol chuckles, shifting so that he’s leaning against the headboard as well. “I wish I could have your optimism,” he says. “But I’m not sure if I’m planning to stick around next year.” He feels his mouth dry up as he says those words. He had been planning to tell Yuta of his plans to retire, and looks like this is the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches Yuta’s eyes widen. “You’re … planning to retire?” he asks, slowly. “As in after this season?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol shrugs. “It makes sense, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his surprise, Yuta shakes his head. “It doesn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol frowns. “What part of it doesn’t make sense?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fact that it’s almost the Olympic season?” Yuta points out. “Didn’t you always want to go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have, but …” This isn’t turning out the way he expected. “I’m not sure if I’m even cut out for the Olympics. I mean, after London—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was four years ago. Sure, it had been rough afterwards, but you had your moments.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fourth-place finishes in challenger competitions and placing in the bottom half of Grand Prix assignments aren’t exactly moments.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta makes a sound of indignation as he wraps his arms around Hansol. “Babe, you gotta give yourself credit,” he coos, nuzzling his chin on Hansol’s neck. “You’re doing fine. At least stay until Nationals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What for, though?” Hansol would have been distracted with Yuta all over him, but this is something he needs to talk about. Yuta is the perfect person to talk to; they have known each other for a long time, and Yuta had been there for him, even at his worst. “Korea’s male figure skaters are doing a great job. I’m pretty much dead weight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you still have something to give.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?” Hansol asks. He had asked himself that question dozens of times, but his mind continues to draw a blank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta looks up, giving him that mysterious smile that would irritate him and fascinate him at the same time. “That’s for you to find out,” he says. “But hey, the entire year leading to the Olympics is about figuring things out, right?” He laughs when Hansol rolls his eyes. “Give it some more thought, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol sighs, but he nods. He’s not close to figuring out his plans for this season or next season. He wishes he has a roadmap so he can figure out where to go from here. But he trusts Yuta, and he figures he has the whole off-season to make up his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just hopes when he comes to a decision, he’ll make the right one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol’s butt feels sore from all the traveling. He had just endured five hours on the bus to Busan, reluctant to part ways with his training mates. They had boarded the bus to Incheon and will take a thirty-four-hour flight back to Vancouver, layovers and all. Hansol hates being by himself on trips, but it’s a price he has to pay for ending his season early.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nevertheless, he beams when he steps out of the bus station and sees the familiar car parked outside. His mother steps out and hugs him, and he yells in surprise when he sees his brother and sister in the car. The drive home is lively, his sister fussing over how he looks like he had lost a lot of weight, with his mother promising to feed him everything he’s been deprived of since he flew back to Vancouver last year.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He helps his mother and sister prepare dinner, fussing over his nephews and nieces in between. Dinner was chaos, with the children fighting over the food, his siblings trying to calm said children down, his parents laughing over the pandemonium. They don’t talk about figure skating, nor ask Hansol about the season that was and the season that will come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His bed has new sheets when he dives on it, face-planting on his pillow. He realizes it’s not as soft as the bed in his apartment in Vancouver, but he’ll take it. It’s been a year since he had last slept there, and while Hansol hates ending his season early, it feels great to be home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol is used to a schedule that involves an hour working out in his apartment in Vancouver, another hour in the gym, two hours working on jumps in the rink, two hours off-ice training, then another two hours in the rink. The rest of the day is dedicated to therapy, dance classes, catching up on schoolwork, and hanging out with Team VSC when they’re all free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the end of the season for him, but Hansol adjusts his schedule so he can still be in good form when he returns to Vancouver if he decides to stay for another season. He wakes up early in the morning for a morning jog before doing his usual morning exercises. The rink in Busan is in a mall and he can only train there before opening or after closing time, but he decides not to step on the ice for a while. It might be helpful in figuring out what it would be like if he isn’t skating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does relent when one of his nieces asks him to take her to the rink. (To be fair, Hansol hadn’t stepped on the rink for a week when she asked, so that’s sort of an accomplishment.) Although the rink in the mall was not the most ideal place for a skater competing internationally, it holds the best memories. Eighteen years ago, he was watching some of the kids at the rink after an exhausting day of following his mother and sister in a shopping spree. He told his mother he wanted to skate just like those people. The rest, as they say, is history.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The front desk staff squeals upon his arrival; it’s the same front desk staff who had manned the desk since Hansol started skating. “My goodness, look at you! You’re taller than I remembered!” she exclaims. She opens the doors for them, dismissing Hansol’s insistence that he pays for his niece’s ice time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a huge photo of him of the walls in the hallways heading to the locker room. The biggest one is a photo of him back in 2011 when he stood atop the World Junior podium in Gangneung, a bronze medal around his neck. Beside him were Johnny and Yuta, who won gold and silver, respectively, but they were cut out of the photo. After all, Hansol was the Busan figure skater in the photo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of the kids changing into their skates recognize him and scream his name. They rush towards him with their phones and skates out. It’s a common occurrence when he arrives at the rink, and his niece is no stranger to it. She even volunteers to take photos of the kids before she calmly heads to the skates area to pick her boots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, well, well! Guess who’s back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol looks over his shoulder, and it’s his turn to yell in surprise. “Noona!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kwon Boa was the on-rink coach on Hansol’s first day of skating lessons. She encouraged Hansol to compete in an ISU Development Trophy in Singapore, where he placed fourth. She had seen Hansol’s potential to go further into the sport, and she encouraged him to take up more formal training, which meant moving to Seoul, the main hub of the Korean Skating Union. It meant switching coaches—to Shin Heasook, one of the best technical coaches in Korea—much to Hansol’s reluctance. But if Coach Boa hadn’t been so insistent, Hansol wouldn’t be where he is right now. He’s eternally grateful to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coach Boa grins as she approaches him, ruffling his niece’s hair. “Welcome back!” she says. “I see you can’t get enough of the rink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, ha. My niece wanted to skate, and obviously, I’m my sister’s first choice of a babysitter,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Still coaching?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m starting my first batch of students for the season. Which means, Basic 1. Wanna help? Only, you don’t get paid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol chuckles. “Of course, if that’s okay with your boss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boss easily allows Hansol to co-teach Basic 1 with Coach Boa. (Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want Busan’s Ice Prince on the rink on a regular day?) Coach Boa’s kids stare at him, jaws dropping, when he is introduced. One of the kids blurts out he wanted to learn how to skate because of him. Hansol is still not used to being an inspiration, but it puts a smile on his face nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s no stranger to teaching kids in the rink. The mall usually requests him to help teach kids in his off-season, to bring in more money. Since Worlds 2013, those requests have died down somewhat, but the manager approves of his spontaneous appearances to teach kids whenever he’s free. He doesn’t mind visiting, talking to the kids, catching up with Coach Boa. His siblings have poked fun at home for being Seoul-grown and Vancouver-grown, but Hansol knows that Busan will always be his home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A couple of hours later, he brings his niece home then rushes to a Korean barbeque restaurant where Coach Boa is waiting. She had already ordered for them, the smell of grilled meat causing his stomach to grumble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember how we always went for a barbeque after a competition?” Coach Boa asks, piling tons of meat on his plate as soon as he sits down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol grins as he reaches for his chopsticks. “Mom would always get mad because I’ll ruin my diet, but you insisted that I had been through a competition, and I deserved a treat, even if I didn’t win.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You deserved it! You spent hours and hours training.” Coach Boa takes a sip of her beer. “Now that your season is over, eat like you deserve it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol sighs. “If I had placed higher, I would be going to Helsinki next month,” he says. “I want to be in Helsinki. I want to prove that I bounced back from Ontario.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have that chance next season. I’m sure we’ll get three spots for Pyeongchang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>If </span>
  </em>
  <span>I get to be in the Olympic team.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coach Boa frowns at him, ignoring the piece of meat that fell out of her chopsticks. “Look at you, so pessimistic! That’s not the Ji Hansol I raised!” She sets down her chopsticks and leans forward. “Something bothering you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol gulps. He reaches for a piece of meat and takes a bite, gathering his thoughts as he chews. “Noona,” he begins, “when did you decide it’s time to stop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long silence envelops their table, and Hansol watches Coach Boa lean against her chair, as if trying to process the information. Talks of retirement, confirmed or unconfirmed, still deal a blow to anyone who talks about it. For athletes who have competed in the same sport all their life, to stop seems to be unthinkable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coach Boa finally speaks in a soft tone. “It was so much different back then,” she says. “For Korea, figure skating was more of a recreational activity than a sport. The only way people knew of competitive skating in general was because of Daniel oppa. He used to coach your friend, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol nods. “Johnny, yeah. Now he coaches Johnny’s brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After he retired, no one paid attention to skating until Yuna came into the picture. My parents earn enough money so I can train, but it would have been nice if someone helped us fund our training, you know what I mean? But even KSU cut the budget for figure skating back then for speed skating. So, I decided to stop. Even if I didn’t want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol knows that feeling. In his early days of skating, ice time was expensive enough as it was. When Coach Boa encouraged him to train for international competitions, his parents had pulled all strings so they could pay for boots, on- and off-ice training, dance classes, therapy, everything. His siblings had often pitched in on expenses, but Hansol had to make them stop when they married and had children. Sometimes he would overhear his mother on the phone during his practices in JGP competitions, talking to potential sponsors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It got better when Kim Yuna won the Olympic gold medal. Suddenly, KSU had refurbished the rink, and they had started most of their skaters’ training, flight, and accommodation expenses. It wasn’t enough, but a huge weight had been lifted off their parents’ shoulders. When Pyeongchang got the bid to host the Olympics, his parents didn’t need to spend a single won on him anymore, unless it’s for his trip back home, something they’d willingly pay for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The past few seasons, though, had Hansol thinking that maybe KSU thinks of him as a waste of money these days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know what you’re gonna do when you retire?” Coach Boa asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably sign up for the military, then finish school,” Hansol says with a shrug. These are some of the things he needs to make up his mind during the off-season. “I haven’t gotten to thinking about the future next,” he admits sheepishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have my full support, Hansol,” Coach Boa says with a smile. “You’ve given so much for figure skating. Yuna may be the face of Korean figure skating, but you’ve played a huge part in it, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not the first time Hansol has been told that. A young skater named Jisung approached him one time, when Hansol was eighteen and warming up to practice his exhibition program for All That Skate. Jisung had seen Hansol land his first-ever quad jump in Four Continents. “I wanna be just like you, hyung!” Jisung had told him. “I wanna be the second Korean man to land a quad!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong ended up being the second Korean man to land a quad jump, but the point stands. A young generation of skaters grew up idolizing him. Back then, Hansol had only admired Daniel Lee, then the rest of his skating idols were either from Japan or the United States or somewhere else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, though, he wonders if there’s anything else left in him to be admired for.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He takes a train to Seoul the next day, then heads to the tenth floor of the apartment building. The apartment is empty and a little dusty—no surprises there because Taeyong and Jaehyun are set to head home after Worlds, which will be at the end of the month. It’s going to be lonely here for the next month, but Taeyong and Jaehyun have been assigned to the World team for as long as he can remember, so he’s used to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wastes no time getting settled in, unpacking and doing a bit of cleaning. He’s too lazy to do some grocery shopping, so he orders takeout and falls asleep on the couch while watching the latest episode of this new drama. When he wakes up, the news is showing a segment of Donghyuck training in the Toronto Cricket Club, Hanyu Yuzuru and Javier Fernandez visible in the background. The reporter asks Donghyuck about the Olympics, and Hansol switches off the television before he can hear Donghyuck’s reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next few days are busier. Hansol registers for a new semester at university. He catches up with his schoolmates—most of them have already moved up because they have lots of time to catch up on schoolwork; Hansol, meanwhile, had to prioritize training over schoolwork, so the number of units he has finished would only technically make him a sophomore student. Not that he cares; he’s glad he’s able to study at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During those times, he stays away from the rink. Still, his research paper is about—what else—figure skating, and it involves watching performances on YouTube from hours on end. The only exception to the videos he watches is his training mates because the judgment would obviously cloud him if he uses them for academic purposes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s been told it’s a gift, his keen eye. So many skaters would approach him and tell him how jealous they are of him, how he can tell if a jump has enough rotations just by first glance. Coach Lee and other coaches have brought up the suggestion of him being a technical specialist in the future, a career Hansol is actually inclined to take when he finally decides to retire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the same time, Hansol thinks this keen eye is a curse, too. His keen eye for rotations has never been helpful in his improvement in his technique. In fact, Hansol puts more pressure on himself whenever he would uncharacteristically under-rotate or pop a jump, knowing that he could have worked on it better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Hansol misses being in the rink, and he takes a bus to Taeneung Ice Rink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The staff greets him cheerily, one which he returns before passing the familiar route towards the men’s locker rooms. He smiles when he passes by the familiar Hall of Fame and sees a photo of Kim Yuna in her iconic blue dress, all smiles as she shows off her Olympic gold medal. Hansol’s photo is miles smaller in comparison, the Junior World bronze medal around his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol would have figured that the locker room was empty if not for the scream that suddenly came. He looks to the further side of the room and spots a couple of familiar faces—Lee Jeno, one of the junior skaters who placed fifth in Nationals, and Na Jaemin, a former singles skater turned speed skater. Hansol has a soft spot for the latter, to the point that Yuta has dubbed him their “son” that one time he visited. He remembers that the World Junior Speed Skating Championships had concluded last month, and that the senior World Speed Skating Championships are ongoing this week, which meant the figure skaters have the rink to themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung!” Jaemin exclaims as he leaps to hug Hansol. “Long time no see!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol chuckles as he ruffles Jaemin’s hair. The last time he had seen Jaemin was before Hansol boarded the bus to Gangneung, while Jaemin and the junior national speed skating team flew to Helsinki for Junior Worlds. Jaemin had won the silver medal overall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The last time I saw Hansol hyung was in Four Continents.” Jeno shudders. “Okay, I shouldn’t have remembered it. I had nightmares after his exhibition program!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about it,” Hansol says in the lowest, scariest voice he can possibly muster. He remembers the sight of a horrified Jeno clutching a horrified Shoma when Hansol took to the ice for his exhibition program. Donghyuck had apparently sent the YouTube link of the exhibition to Jaemin afterwards, with Jaemin sending Hansol and Yuta his reaction video of the whole thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, sorry, hyung.” Jeno raises his hands in acknowledgment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, what are you doing here?” Hansol asks, glancing back at Jaemin. “I thought it’s the off-season for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“KSU called me back. They want to do a feature of me for the Pyeongchang YouTube channel.” Jaemin’s cheeks turn pink as he says it. “I don’t even know what they’re gonna ask me for the video. I’m kinda nervous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine. Just be the adorable kid that you are, and you’ll go viral in an instant.” Hansol chuckles when Jaemin lets out a sound of protest. Even if it’s weird to call someone his “son,” the kid seems to have gotten under his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s amazing how many male figure skaters are training in the rink now, as compared to a decade ago. Now, there’s Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jisung. Jaemin would probably be in the picture had Coach Shin not detected that the way he skated suited him better for speed skating. He’s used to being called “hyung”—Taeyong and Jaehyun still call him that—but to be followed around by younger, bright-eyed kids is still something that Hansol can’t seem to grasp just yet. But if anyone asks if Korean figure skating has made progress, then Hansol guesses this is one of those signs that he’s glad of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he feels old.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about you, hyung?” Jeno says. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me?” Hansol is about to explain that being with the rink will probably help him decide if he should retire now or after the Olympic decision when he hears a scream from outside the locker room. He looks at the two boys in confusion before heading towards the door, carefully flinging it open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hallways are quiet, and Hansol thinks the coast is clear. He looks over to his shoulder and nudges for Jaemin and Jeno that they’re safe. Sort of. The two skaters nod at him, and they slowly make their way to turn at the nearby corner …</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hear the scream again, and this time, they hear it getting nearer and nearer. Suddenly, they see Jisung emerge from another corner, expression horrified as he runs to their direction, still wearing his skates. Another figure soon emerges, and Hansol recognizes his former coach, Shin Heasook, chasing after Jisung, holding what looks like a stick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung …?” Jaemin says, his voice shaking. “What are we gonna do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol is briefly reminded of that time when he was thirteen and in Jisung’s situation, being chased by Coach Shin with a stick. He’s twenty-two now, and he would like to be a dignified hyung in front of Jeno and Jaemin, but the sight brings him back to being a teenager running for his life. “We run and hide,” he says. They waste no time rushing back to the locker room and locking themselves inside. Hansol makes a mental note to pray for Jisung’s sanity later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the chaos is over, and Jisung is finally let into the locker room, rubbing his sore butt, Hansol finally dares to step outside and say hello to Coach Shin. His old coach treats him like he had been visiting the rink for the whole week and tells him to start warming up if he’s going to stay. Hansol practically straightens his posture as he says yes. Some habits never change.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to help you for today?” Hansol offers. “I don’t really have to rigorously train until after Worlds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs. “Jisung is working on a triple axel. Keep an eye on him for me, would you? I’ll work with Jeno.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung gives him a shy smile when Coach Shin informs him of the instructions. Hansol tries to be as friendly as possible. After all, he’s not a coach and more of someone with more experience than Jisung. That, and his triple axel is more or less reliable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Jisung,” he starts, putting his hands together. “Let’s see your triple axel first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung turns red. “I-It’s not yet good, hyung,” he says, lowering his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol understands the younger one’s self-consciousness. “It’s okay. Once I see the jump, I can help you improve it. That’s the point, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung bites his bottom lip, but he nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol watches as Jisung skates around the rink, trying to find the right momentum for the jump. Finally, he recognizes it—the change in center of gravity, the swing of the right foot forward toward the jump—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One, two, three—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung falls on his butt, but he doesn’t look pained from it as he gets up. Instead, the boy sighs as if he had been stumped before skating back to Hansol. “Did I complete the rotation?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought so.” Jisung’s shoulders slump. “I’ve been trying really hard, hyung. I don’t know why I can’t complete it. Sometimes I do, but I end up falling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay. Triple axels are one of the hardest jumps in figure skating, and it would take lots of practice.” Hansol pats Jisung on the shoulder. “I have some ideas why you can’t complete the rotation, so maybe we can work on that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol sort of detected a problem, and he and Jisung worked on solving that. But even with a couple of hours of practice time, Jisung’s triple axel doesn’t get perfect. The boy stops falling so much, though, and Hansol thinks it’s better than nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Jisung leaves the rink with cheeks pink and a wide smile on his face, so Hansol thinks that his impromptu coaching session isn’t so bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ever thought of coaching after the Olympics?” Coach Shin asks as she walks beside him as he heads back to the locker room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol hums, remembering his previous contemplation. Instead of answering, he shrugs. “We’ll see.” It’s not like he has the answers right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe as the months pass on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They end their practice in the early afternoon, and Jaemin acts cute and asks Hansol if he can treat them to something. Soon, Jeno and Jisung start prodding him for free food. And, well, who is he to say no?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, there’s a café just a few minutes’ walk from the rink, and he smiles when he sees his juniors chat happily while sipping their drinks and munching on snacks. (He would have bought them cake, but Coach Shin will murder him if she finds out.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think is gonna happen at Worlds, hyung?” Jeno asks, setting aside his now-empty cup. “It’s kinda stressful, seeing predictions on the Internet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol shrugs, too. They’re good friends with a fan named Doyoung, who runs a YouTube commentary channel. Every time he posts competition previews, the never-ending question was “What the hell is going to happen with the men?” No one knows, to be honest. While there are favorites to win the podium, the men’s event gets more unpredictable in every season. Right now, with Olympic spots at stake, there’s no telling who’s going to be on the podium.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he answers, “I trust Taeyong and Jaehyun. I’m sure they can get three spots for Korea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung is on his phone, chatting with his friend Chenle, a skater from China. “Chenle’s staying in Canada for a bit over the off-season,” he announces. “Said he’s gonna work with Brian Orser.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way!” Jeno’s eyes widen, snatching Jisung’s phone. His jaw drops slightly. “Is everyone going to Orser now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>coach two Olympic champions,” Hansol points out. He sighs, reaching for the snack bowl. “Team VSC will have a two-week session with him, too. To polish the basics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung and Jeno look at him like he had grown horns. “That’s so amazing, hyung …” Jeno comments. “Wish I could go to Orser, too. Hyuck said he’s really nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right. Donghyuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hansol’s stomach churns. “How is he doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s alright. Sometimes homesick, but he’s happy with training,” Jisung explains. “He’s kinda confident that he’ll make it to Pyeongchang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jisunggie!” Jaemin elbows his friend before looking at Hansol apologetically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s complicated to be friends with people you consider your rivals, no matter what their age is. They’re all aiming for the same dream, but in the end, only a few people can make it to the Olympics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it was just a few of them in the men’s field, everyone predicted that it was the Korea Men’s Holy Trinity—Lee Taeyong, Jung Jaehyun, and Ji Hansol—who would make it to the Olympics. While Hansol isn’t the most technically strong out of them, Taeyong and Jaehyun had the chance to secure three spots for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But suddenly Lee Donghyuck happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not like he came out of nowhere. Donghyuck struggled with his jumps, but a move to Brian Orser unleashed his potential. Suddenly, he was finishing off podiums in international competitions, including a bronze medal at the recently concluded Junior World Figure Skating Championships. If Taeyong and Jaehyun were on a bad week, Donghyuck could go and place higher than them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the podium finished at Nationals, and suddenly, Donghyuck’s name was mentioned alongside Taeyong and Jaehyun. It’s as if Hansol never existed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, he should have expected it after London.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jisung realizes what he had just said and lowers his head at Hansol. “Sorry, hyung.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. He can’t be brooding about it, especially since the juniors before him are close with Donghyuck. “Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But in the end, Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jisung were just like him before—wide-eyed, hopeful juniors who would soon find out how cruel the scene can be. At least, harsher than what they’re experiencing right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol could only hope that they don’t end up like him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm doing a: <a href="https://data.whicdn.com/images/234663289/original.jpg">CRYING</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Maybe not a trigger warning, but just in case: A scene from this fic makes a reference to the 2011 Tohoku earthquake.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s late in the evening, but Hansol finds himself wide awake with takeout bibimbap and cans of soda strewn on his table. Johnny and Mark are online on Google Hangouts with takeout pizza and bottles of soda. Mark sets up the CBC live stream on their side of the world while Hansol is tuned in to SBS’ coverage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see the inside of Hartwall Arena, the Zamboni still navigating around the rink. He holds out his bowl of bibimbap for Johnny and Mark to see. “Dinner?” he asks with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Midnight snack.” Johnny gestures to the box of pizza and the one-half liter bottle of soda. “And Mark may have gobbled a couple of chocolate bars.” Hansol is used to computing the time difference between Vancouver and Seoul, so he figures it’s around 2:30 in the morning from where the brothers are.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh, good luck containing the hyperactive child later.” Hansol snickers as he shoves a spoonful of bibimbap in his mouth. “Seriously, though, how do you think everyone will do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johnny shrugs. “It’s the World Championships. Anything can happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In all honesty, he wants to be in Pyeongchang, with his friends. He’s sure Yuta won’t have any problem earning three spots with Hanyu Yuzuru and Uno Shoma. Patrick Chan is sure to at least earn more than one spot for Canada, and he’s sure Mark will be an Olympic team contender next year. Ten is starting to climb up the rankings. Taeyong has had a breakthrough this season, and with Jaehyun starting to be consistent again, three spots aren’t impossible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whether he’ll be part of the Olympic team, though, is something he’ll worry about when the week is over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s ready to crash four hours later, when the men’s short program finally ended. His friends placed within the Top 24, which gives each skater a final chance to fight for spots for the Olympics. Hansol’s ready to crash in his bed when the Hangouts notification beeps—Taeyong is inviting him and Johnny to a video call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We made it!” Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Yuta exclaim, trying to fit their faces on the screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol is about to congratulate them, if not for Johnny blurting out, “Where’s Ten?” Of course. Ten had looked disappointed after falling on his quad toe and stepping out on his triple axel in the short program. Hansol knew the feeling of dread, but fortunately for Ten, he made it to the free skate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, hello to you, too, Johnny,” Yuta says in mock hurt. “So nice of you to congratulate us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yuta, shut up.” Jaehyun elbows Yuta before looking at Johnny apologetically. “Ten’s in his room. He refused to speak to anyone after the short program.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, I’ll call him.” Johnny disappears in the chat window, leaving them with Mark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave him alone, guys, he needs to comfort the love of his life,” Hansol tells the others, and they end up laughing. “But congrats. You were all awesome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong grins. “Now it’s just the number of spots left,” he says. “We’ll make sure we’ll get three spots for you, hyung.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we’ll tie up Donghyuck and drag him to the KSU dungeons until he hits puberty,” Jaehyun adds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol laughs at that. “Thanks, guys. Now go to sleep. You’re probably exhausted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good night, hyung!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol has already laid down on his bed when his phone rings. It’s from Skype this time, Yuta’s name on the caller ID. “Aren’t you supposed to go to sleep?” he asks when he picks up the call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, can’t I spare a few more minutes talking to my boyfriend?” Yuta purrs. He hears the slam of the door; Hansol presumes he has either arrived in his room or had just left Taeyong and Jaehyun’s room. He hears Yuzuru’s voice from the other line, so his guess about the former is right. “I’ll never get used to long-distance relationships.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me either.” Hansol remembers the way Yuta skated his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Footloose </span>
  </em>
  <span>program hours ago. It was energetic, powerful, and brought the crowd to their feet, flags of Japan being waved all over Hartwall Arena. His chest swells with pride when the scores are announced—the highest ever in Yuta’s career. “I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, but I can’t slack off. We need three spots.” Yuta sighs, and Hansol hears him sinking on his bed. “I wish you were here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me, too. I wish Team VSC were all in Worlds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like that time in The Hague?” Yuta chuckles. “I miss those days. We weren’t worried so much about medals and Olympic spots.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Junior Worlds in The Hague was perhaps one of the best memories Hansol has in his career. Back then, they were still from different coaches and different training rinks—Johnny and Ten were with Daniel Lee, Yuta was under Tamura Yamato, and he and Taeyong and Jaehyun were with Shin Heasook. Johnny and Ten had bonded with Taeyong and Jaehyun in an instant. Meanwhile, he had only met Yuta in September of the previous year in Lake Placid, yet Yuta had draped an arm around him like they had been friends for a long time. Not that Hansol minded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their careers have taken different directions now, and it was difficult seeing each other even if they train in the same rink. Johnny had gone through a slump after his premature retirement but now goes to the rink more often because he’s managing Mark. Ten is starting to make a breakthrough as the top Southeast Asian male figure skater. Yuta is now Japan’s number three. Taeyong continues to be the top man in Korean men’s skating, with Jaehyun starting to get his consistency back after a couple of years dealing with the dreaded puberty curse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The height of Hansol’s career came long ago, when he started his junior career, then it all went downhill the moment he lost Korea a spot for the Olympics. Since then, it had always been an uphill climb, a climb that Hansol wonders is worth climbing still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re awfully quieter than usual,” Yuta comments, snapping him back to the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s past midnight,” Hansol retorts, yawning as if to emphasize his point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Yuta sighs. “I’m in Group 1 for tomorrow’s official practice.” He groans at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have class. I’ll talk to you after the free skate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. Good night, Hansol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good night.” Hansol is about to hang up but manages to hear Yuta say his name from the other line. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a sharp breath before a “You know I love you, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol’s cheeks start to hurt, warmth spreading all over his chest. “I know,” he says. “I know. I love you, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol dreams of being sixteen and being back in their hotel in Gangneung. He’s hanging out with his friends and fellow skaters in the closing banquet, in an unexplainable kind of high. Back in his room, his bronze medal is carefully tucked into its box, stored in the deepest parts of his luggage as if it’s treasure. In truth, it's a treasure to Hansol. It’s a Junior World bronze medal, the highest medal he has ever received in his career.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s laughing at something Ryan Yee from Malaysia had said when he feels an arm around his waist. Yuta is pulling him in another direction, smiling so bright that Hansol’s heart gets caught in his throat. Yuta is also on cloud nine, having won the silver medal. He’s dragging Hansol to another table, where Johnny, Taeyong, and Jaehyun were waiting. “We can’t end the banquet without a group photo!” he announces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol had fallen probably in their last day at The Hague, when they had free time to explore before they all parted ways. They explored everything there is to explore, having a good argument about getting lost until Johnny finally took charge, strolling through the Plein and eating anything beyond their prescribed diet. Yuta had accidentally tucked his hands inside Hansol’s coat pockets, and he had smiled apologetically, his cheeks pink. Hansol was contemplating on his feelings until he and Yuta hung out on the latter’s hotel balcony at the end of the day, and that was when the proverbial bullet train had hit him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They take several group photos, a couple of casual poses then wackier poses. The skaters then start retreating to their rooms; most of them have flights to catch the next day, some in the early morning. Hansol has a bus ride to catch at six in the morning, because he needs to be back in Seoul to train for his first senior Worlds appearance in Moscow. It’s still late April, but first senior Worlds appearances matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about to follow Taeyong and Jaehyun out of the ballroom when he feels a hand grab his waist. It’s Yuta again, eyes sparkling that Hansol would like to stare at it all day. “Let’s go somewhere,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol quickly reminds himself that he has a bus to catch in the early morning, and Coach Shin is going to kill him if he doesn’t wake up on time. Then, he’s quick to remind himself that he won’t be able to see Yuta again until the off-season, probably. “Where do you wanna go?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta smiles mysteriously, tilting his head to go follow him. Hansol follows, out the ballroom and in the nearest elevator. Yuta pushes the topmost button, to the roof deck, and Hansol wonders what’s in store for them there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s nothing extraordinary, Hansol finds out. Dim fluorescent lights illuminate their path, where Yuta plops himself on one of the benches at the edge overlooking the city, grinning as he pats on the free space next to him. Hansol mentally shrugs and takes a seat next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been a week, huh?” Yuta tells him, his gaze on the view below them. Gangneung is silent at nighttime, a direct contrast to the many cities Hansol has been in. He would have wanted to explore some more, if not for curfew and an early bus trip to Seoul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol nods, wondering if it’s possible to shift closer without being too obvious. At this point, Taeyong has pointed out that Yuta is being obvious about his feelings, but Hansol wants to be careful, because Yuta has shown to be a friendly and touchy person. He often sees him and Hanyu Yuzuru attached to the hip, even going so far as to dub a then-fourteen-year-old Uno Shoma their “son.” Hansol has to quash the green-eyed monster from inside him too many times.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be in Vancouver next week,” Yuta says, shifting closer before Hansol can even make up his mind. “At Johnny and Ten’s rink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol blinks. “Why?” he asks. If he recalls correctly, Yuta often goes to California for training, but spends most of his training in Japan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta grins and shrugs. “JSF wants me to have a trial run with Joanne McLeod,” he says. “If all goes well, she will be my new coach.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Hansol blinks. “What about Coach Yamato?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a good run with sensei,” Yuta says, his gaze now on Hansol. “But I’m starting to become too comfortable with where I am right now. I want to push myself harder and try things I’ve never done before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol nods. He wants to say he had been considering switching coaches for some time. Coach Shin has helped him so much to improve on his technique, but training in Korea alone isn’t going to get him anywhere. Yuna had suggested he go to Brian Orser, but with the drama between Yuna and Brian Orser’s split, it’s impossible to go now. But …</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bronze medal around his neck on the podium was proof that he can be something more. He may not be as great as Yuna, but it just went to show that he can still go places, win several medals along the way. He knows he can’t do that in Korea alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s going to have a lot of things to talk about with his mother as soon as he gets home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t it be nice if we both get to be in the same rink as everyone else?” Yuta says. “You, me, Johnny and Ten, Jaehyun and Taeyong …”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would be crazy,” Hansol chuckles. “We’ll be making fun of each other so often our coaches will kill us. But it would be fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Yuta nods. “At least we’ll get to see each other more often instead of video calls and very rare meet-ups in competitions.” He’s about to say something again, when his phone beeps. The caller ID is in Japanese characters, but Hansol is familiar with those four letters, and the green-eyed monster is back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yuzuru?” he says. The jealousy is quick to disappear, fortunately; he’s aware of what Yuzuru has gone through the past few weeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta nods again; he isn’t smiling anymore, and Hansol feels bad for feeling jealous. “He’s a little better now,” he says. “He’s taking the rest of the season off. The earthquake badly damaged the rink in Sendai, and they’re in an evacuation center.” He sighs, leaning against the bench. “I wish I could do something. I feel like I’m a useless best friend right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol wishes he can be like Johnny or Taeyong, who can say the right things at the right time. He’s not the most eloquent person there is, and he is the type who wants to be anywhere but by the side of someone who is letting out feelings, especially heavy ones. But this is Yuta, and he wants to tell Yuta that he has never been useless, that his smiles are enough to keep him going through a bad day at training or in competition …</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches for Yuta’s hand on impulse, their intertwined fingers feeling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Yuta looks at him, eyes wide, and Hansol falls a little harder. His throat feels dry, but he manages to let the words out. “You’re not useless. The fact that you’re there for Yuzuru is enough for him. At least, that’s what I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta’s shoulders relax, and his cheeks turn pink. “Sorry that just got suddenly heavy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m not the best at giving advice, but you can always talk to me if you want. I’m here to listen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” The smile is back, and Hansol is relieved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s another sound of the phone beeping, and it’s Hansol’s phone this time. He sighs when he sees his mother’s name in the notifications. “Mom wants me back in my room,” he announces as he reads the message. He hopes he didn’t sound disappointed when he said it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Yuta gets up. “It’s getting late, anyway. You have a bus to catch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Hansol doesn’t want to catch the bus. He doesn’t want to return to reality. All he wants is to pull Yuta in his arms and tell him what he feels. He’s not used to taking the first step—he’s always comfortable with someone making the first move in a conversation, always used to being asked instead of doing the asking. Yuta has always been the first to start a conversation, the one who points out if Hansol wants something but is too uncertain if he should get it. All he wants is to be like Yuta, for once in his life, like right now—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s taken back to reality when Yuta squeezes his hand. Hansol realizes they both haven’t let go. Yuta is smiling, more subdued, but still manages to take Hansol’s breath away. “Let’s go?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol nods, regretting that he didn’t make a move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator doors open when Yuta presses the button, and a mother and child walk in just as the doors are about to close. The child, strangely hyper at this hour of the night, presses the floor below the roof deck, then proceeds to press all the other buttons. The mother reprimands him in a shrill voice, then proceeds to smile apologetically at the two of them, before they get out of their stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta’s room is on the sixteenth floor, and the wait is excruciating. Hansol’s heart is beating faster, his brain telling him to go for it. Yuta is flying back to Japan, and god knows when he’ll fly to Vancouver, and god knows when Hansol will see him again. It’s either he says something, or he won’t then regret it for the rest of his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances at Yuta, who’s staring at the small screen that shows what floor they’re in. They’re still on the forty-third floor. Twenty-seven more to go, which is not enough time for Hansol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand reaches for Yuta’s, his pinky brushing the younger one’s. Yuta looks down, his expression questioning, but doesn’t object when Hansol’s hand is on his, the younger one’s thumb gently brushing his knuckles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when Hansol loses it. He turns and places his hands on Yuta’s face as he leans in. He’s never kissed anyone before, and it’s just supposed to be a light brush of lips against lips, but Yuta is quick to lean forward before Hansol can pull away. It’s not fireworks or those cheesy love songs he gets to hear all the time, but kissing Yuta feels right. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So right.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta pulls away when he’s pressed against the elevator walls, Hansol’s hands still cupped on his face. His smile is the brightest, and that’s something Hansol wants to see every waking day of his life. He chuckles as he wraps his arms around Hansol’s waist, pulling him close and whispering, “Finally” before leaning in again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator bells chime, and there’s a clearing of the throat. Hansol pulls away and yelps, jumping backward when Kori Ade walks in, an eyebrow raised at them. Hansol feels his face had just gone fifty shades of red, but the American coach instead comments about all the buttons being pressed and doesn’t comment any further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances at Yuta, who’s grinning at him shyly, and he can’t contain his grin either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two days later, Hansol finds himself awake again at early midnight, almost screaming at the results of the conclusion of the men’s event. All his friends placed in the top ten, Taeyong finishing career-high fifth, and Ten, Jaehyun, and Yuta in seventh to ninth, respectively. Taeyong and Jaehyun’s placement earned Korea three spots for the Olympics, and Hanyu Yuzuru and Uno Shoma’s first- and second-place finishes, were enough for Japan to retain three spots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol wants to cheer along, but his friends are on the other side of the world, and they won’t be seeing each other until the late summer. Then it hits him that the third spot for Korea is wide open for him to take, but he isn’t even sure if he’ll still have a place in Korean figure skating next season.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hansol wastes no time in spring cleaning the morning after the competition. Taeyong and Jaehyun would be flying back to Vancouver to pack a more oversized suitcase before flying back to Korea. They’d be getting a hero’s welcome, no doubt, but Hansol knows they’d be heading straight here once all the fanfare has died down in the airport. Knowing Taeyong, any sort of mess in the apartment will make him throw a fit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaehyun messages him as soon as they land in Incheon. Hansol enlists Jeno, Jaemin, Jisung, and Donghyuck (who had recently arrived after winning the bronze medal in Junior Worlds) in preparing a ‘Welcome Back’ dinner. He’s not any good at cooking as Taeyong and Jaehyun are, but what the heck, it’s the thought that counts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong and Jaehyun are pleasantly surprised when they open the apartment door and Hansol and the junior skaters yell their congratulations while showering them with confetti. Both have dark circles under their eyes, exhausted from the long-haul flight, but they nevertheless accept the greetings and dig in their celebratory feast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At nighttime, Hansol has soju and snacks prepared for them. They toast to the end of another season, and they drink and talk to their heart’s content.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong lies down on Jaehyun’s lap as they settle down for the night. It’s past midnight, and that usually means they should be asleep. But it’s the off-season, and they’re free to relax until they’re called for ice show rehearsals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was so scared, you know,” Taeyong mentions, voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was going to screw it up in the free skate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong didn’t. He delivered a flawless performance and placed fifth overall, though there’s fierce debate on the Internet that he should have been on the podium. But the placement didn’t matter. His and Jaehyun’s placements in Helsinki brought Korea three spots for the Olympics, and that mattered the most.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It must have been nerve-wracking in Helsinki,” Hansol comments instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And now we’re close to the real thing,” Jaehyun adds, letting out a heavy breath. “I thought it would be exciting, but right now, I’m anxious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just because Taeyong and Jaehyun won them spots for the Olympics in Helsinki doesn’t make them automatic representatives for Korea. Unlike other countries, who decide their teams in Nationals and a skater’s performance throughout the season, the KSU does things differently. Three domestic competitions throughout the season will determine who will take the three spots for the Olympics: a selection competition in the summer, a ranking competition in the fall, and Nationals a month before the Olympics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That means Hansol should at least be on the podium in all those competitions if he wants to make it to Pyeongchang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels a poke on the side of his head. It’s Taeyong, face flushed from all the alcohol he had to drink. “You’re overthinking again, hyung,” he whines. “You’re gonna be fine. It’s Korea Men’s Holy Trinity or nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol wants to be hopeful; he really does. And his coach has always told him he’d never know until he tries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he tries to hope. He’ll think about the hours and hard work he’ll put in later on. “Yeah,” he agrees, putting on his best smile. “It’s gonna be the three of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong and Jaehyun barely get any rest when KSU sends everyone a memo, requiring all internationally competing skaters to have at least one program choreographed by a local choreographer. It’s supposed to contribute to national pride or something. Not that Hansol’s complaining. All the Korean choreographers he had worked with can rival Lori Nichol, Shae-Lynn Bourne, and even Jeffrey Buttle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But first, he needs music.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Music is always the most challengingchoice to make, especially in the Olympic season. Hansol realizes it gets more difficult when you know it will potentially be your last season. It has to be perfect; it has to encapsulate what legacy you want to leave. For Hansol, he hasn’t even figured out his own legacy, so he’s not sure where he should begin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He already has a list of music he wants to skate to—mostly ballet and classical music. He has only shown this list to his parents, to Coach Boa, and to Yuta. Others will probably snicker if they see it. He’s aware of his reputation as Mr. Warhorse, for his tendency to skate to common—sometimes overused—music. But Hansol is not sorry about that. He likes it when he skates to music people are familiar with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has most of the music in his list checked off—he had already skated to most of it since he started the list. There are at least five unchecked songs. He has to pick the right one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His steps to selecting music are simple—he loads all of the remaining music on his phone and plays it once. He then filters out the music that didn’t catch his interest. Then, he’ll figure out his role should he choose to skate to the music. The songs with clearer images stay in his music library. The clearer his role in the music gets, the more certain it will be his program music.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two weeks later, and he hits a roadblock—a choice between </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bolero </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carmina Burana</span>
  </em>
  <span> for his free skate music. There’s something about the power of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carmina Burana</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s music that draws him, and so does </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bolero</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s simple but mechanized melody.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s in these rare instances when Hansol consults the choreographer, in this case, Yeaji. He’s fortunate that she said yes to choreographing him; with still few choreographers in South Korea, she’s expected to be in demand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In their first sit-in together, Yeaji balks at his music choices, no surprises there. “I might have to vehemently protest at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carmina Burana</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she says. “First, a junior skater has already chosen that. Second, that’s more overused than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bolero</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bolero </span>
  </em>
  <span>it is,” Hansol says with a sigh. That’s one program down. “Now for the short program …”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no denying the glint in Yeaji’s eyes. “I might have a suggestion for you …”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, hyung, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Feelin’ Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As expected, his program music choices have brought upon him the judgmental gazes from Taeyong and Jaehyun. He’s supposed to be used to all the judging, and once he has chosen a program music he sticks to it until the end, no matter the criticisms, but there’s no denying that he still feels self-conscious at the comments, especially from his training mates. “I thought it … felt good?” He laughs at his own pun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong snorts. “Hyung, it’s the Olympic season,” he says. “Don’t you want to take risks for a change? I mean, no offense to your music choices …”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong is right. Hansol may defend this decision as choosing to skate to something familiar, but it also brought criticisms of playing it safe. It’s his final competitive season. Should he take Taeyong’s advice and think outside the box? Or should he stick to what he knows?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answer comes to him as quickly as the question came. He grins at a horrified Taeyong and Jaehyun and shakes his head. “Nah, I think I’ll stay loyal to my warhorse brand,” he says with a wink. He heads to the locker room before the two can remark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It could be his final competitive season, and he’s going to go through it his way, whether he makes waves or not. The judges’ and the fans’ opinions on his music don’t matter anymore. Everything he does from this point on are all his decisions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(But that doesn’t mean he’s prepared for whatever Johnny, Ten, and Yuta’s opinions will be of his music choices.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s barely any time to relax, even in the off-season. Usually, Hansol, Taeyong, and Jaehyun could schedule a day off, but recently, it’s impossible. They’ll be attending a few TV and radio shows to promote the Olympics before they fly back to Vancouver. Their coaches are expecting them to be well-rested, because the real work will begin. Their coaches have come up with a strict training regimen to improve their technique, so that when the major competitions come, they’re ready to prove they can be in the Olympic team.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong and Jaehyun bear the bulk of the Olympic promotions, so Hansol, miraculously, has a few weekends off. He can always go back to Busan, or head to Vancouver early. But that would mean the end of his off-season; he wouldn’t have much time for anything else aside from training once he goes back to Vancouver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens his Twitter and sees tweets from a couple of Japanese figure skating fans he follows. He knows little Japanese, but the picture attached to their tweets shows a poster of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stars on Ice</span>
  </em>
  <span> in Osaka, Yuta’s smile bright in the poster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Taeyong,” he says, causing Taeyong to look at him from the kitchen. “Is the KSU gonna kill me if I take an impulsive trip over the weekend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong frowns in contemplation. “Well, you’re not their favorite skater, so you’re good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That would usually sting, but for once, Hansol is grateful. He checks the flights to Osaka, then checks his bank account. There’s plenty of money in his savings, most of it he has saved so that he wouldn’t burden his parents when figure skating expenses go way more than expected. Now that KSU is funding most of his expenses, money seems to go in more than go out, as he rarely touches it. Until now, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong seems to have hovered beside him, eyeing his laptop screen curiously. “Where are you even planning to go?” he asks. He snorts as he gets the answer seconds later. “Why am I not surprised?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol merely chuckles as he clicks “Book Your Flight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol had forgotten how cold Japan could be even when it’s spring. He tightens his jacket and gratefully accepts the brochure one of the airport staff members hands him. A massive photo of this big male idol group Yuta was starstruck on meeting in a variety show took up the wall of the baggage claiming area, smiling at him and welcoming him to Osaka.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, there are no volunteers to greet him and usher him to a van that will take him to some fancy hotel near the rink. He’s on his own, and he thanks the gods Yuta has taught him a bit of Japanese (with a matching Kansai dialect) to grab a cab to a guest house he had booked out of the blue. When he survives that, he sighs in relief as he sinks to his seat in the cab, praying that no one would recognize him in his accommodations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately, no one does. Hansol flops on his bed, ignoring the snores of the guy taking the top bunk bed, and checks his phone. He’s pleased that his “source” had managed to get him a front-row seat for the Saturday leg of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stars on Ice</span>
  </em>
  <span> Osaka, a considerable feat given that ice shows in Japan sell out like K-Pop concert tickets. He just hopes he doesn’t cause a stir, when the focus of the show should be on the cast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tickets arrive in the guesthouse lobby an hour later. There’s no name, but there’s a message in the envelope. “Can’t wait to see Yuta’s face when he sees you. Good luck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol grabs his cap and mouth mask and heads for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stars on Ice</span>
  </em>
  <span> venue, praying that no one recognizes him. Some audience members look up at his towering figure, but do not say anything that would make him recognized in the arena. If anything, they stare at the bouquet he was holding, a little something Hansol brought on the way so he can surprise Yuta backstage. How he’ll manage to sneak backstage, he’s yet to ask his source.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who will you throw that bouquet to?” someone asks him. Hansol glances to his side and sees a Japanese auntie smiling at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s thankful that the lights have dimmed that the Japanese auntie doesn’t see the warmth that suddenly rushed to his face. “Y-Yuta,” he says, as diffidently as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The auntie’s face brightens up. “Nakamoto-kun!” she says. “I followed him in Junior Worlds, where he won the silver medal. He’s improved so much since then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol nods, smiling nostalgically. That Junior Worlds was unforgettable, in more ways than one. His chest swells with pride. Yuta may not be on the same level as Yuzuru is, but he’s glad that his boyfriend has appealed to figure skating fans nevertheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their conversation is interrupted when the arena lights go completely dim, and the audience breaks into applause as the announcer announces the start of the show. Soon, music starts to play, and the cast enters, the applause getting louder as the announcer calls each skater’s name. Hansol cheers the loudest when Yuta emerges, hands up in the air in greeting as he skates to the center, wearing traditional clothing. He’ll be skating to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spirited Away</span>
  </em>
  <span> program, a former short program.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Based on the setlist, Yuta wasn’t due to perform until the second half of the show, though he did participate in a group dance to the tune of this viral song in Japan. Hansol stands up during the fifteen-minute intermission to stretch his legs and have a quick walk around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about to return to his side in the arena when he turns a corner and almost bumps into someone. “Sorry!” he exclaims, looking up so he can properly apologize once more. “Shit,” he almost mutters under his breath. His eyes widen when he recognizes who the person is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arakawa Shizuka. The 2006 Olympic champion and the vice president of the Japan Skating Federation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The color drains from his face when Shizuka smiles knowingly. “Ji Hansol?” she says, but not so loud a voice as to attract attention. “What a pleasant surprise! Yuta didn’t tell me you were coming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually … he doesn’t know.” Hansol laughs nervously as he scratches the back of his head. He lowers his mask to show his entire face, more out of respect than being found out. “I was planning to surprise him after the show. If I can make it backstage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That certainly won’t be a problem.” Shizuka winks at him. “But I think you can surprise him more if you make a surprise appearance in the finale.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol regrets lowering his mask, when his jaw drops. “I-I don’t think I can,” he says. “I don’t want to bring any attention to myself—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense, this is a show, and the audience won’t mind surprises,” Shizuka says with a wave of a hand. “I’ll have the organizers pick you up from your seat during the finale.” A man in a black suit calls Shizuka’s name from behind, and she sighs. “I have to go. I’ll see you later?” She smiles at Hansol before patting him on the shoulder and walking away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol manages to put his mask back on before someone stares. The last thing he wants is for people to recognize him, and in a dumbfounded expression nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was almost late for the second half, but he was there just in time for Yuta to appear. Hansol feels his breath get caught in his throat as he watches his boyfriend move to the gentle music to the Ghibli movie. It’s one thing for him to watch a run-through during training, and another thing to watch it during competition. It’s still different to watch it in dim lights, the spotlight solely on Yuta, where no placements are at stake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it’s all over, Hansol lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As promised, a volunteer calls his seat number during the finale and asks him to follow her. Hansol ignores the curious whispers of audience members around him as he tiptoes out of their area and down to the path backstage. By then, the entire cast is already on the ice, performing their final number.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shizuka meets his gaze from her side of the rink just as he had finished lacing up the extra skates given to him. She smiles and gestures for him to come to the rink. Hansol feels his heart pounding furiously against his chest, but grips the bouquet tightly and opens the door by the boards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The entire arena seems to have lost it when he shows up in the rink, skating to Yuta’s direction with a bouquet on his hands. He relishes Yuta’s reaction the most, jaw dropping as he mechanically accepts the bouquet, while the rest of the cast and the audience cheer. “Hey,” Hansol says, a stupid grin on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Yuta asks, almost barely audible from the noise of the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, can’t I surprise my boyfriend every now and then?” Hansol asks, feigning hurt as he reaches for Yuta’s free hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you even get a ticket?” Yuta asks. “It was already hard to get tickets on the weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had my ever-reliable source.” At that, Hansol looks over his shoulder and spots Hanyu Yuzuru, who has his arm around Michael Christian Martinez. They meet gazes, and Yuzuru gives him a thumbs-up before returning his attention to Michael.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta follows his gaze and throws back his head in laughter. “Oh boy,” he says. “He’s gonna ask me to buy him dinner, isn’t he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s worth it?” Hansol asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely.” Yuta beams as he leans closer. “I’m glad you’re here, Hansol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol’s heart flutters a lot and he beams back. “Me, too,” he says before leaning in, deepening the kiss when the audience and the cast members start screaming in delight.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hansol earns his ticket backstage after the finale, when Yuta drags him to their dressing room, which allows him to mingle with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stars on Ice</span>
  </em>
  <span> cast members while Yuta’s arms are draped around him. Hanyu Yuzuru fist-bumps him then smirks at Yuta, a sign that he’s excited for his free dinner. Yuta merely rolls his eyes, but makes his word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone approaches them outside the arena as he and Yuta decide where to get dinner. It’s Seulgi, a figure skating fan who they have come to befriend. She and her friend Wendy run a fan site dedicated to Mark, though they initially were a fan site for Johnny. She and Yuta became classmates in Kansai University, and they often hung out whenever Seulgi had managed to charm Japanese aunties into getting her tickets to ice shows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you flew here!” Seulgi exclaims as she hugs Hansol. She nudges Yuta by the elbow, declaring they had lunch before the ice show.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol shrugs. “The stupid things you do for love, I guess,” he says, grinning when Yuta squeezes his hand in response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to tell the others later. They’ll throw a fit.” Seulgi snickers. “How long will you be staying here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m flying tomorrow evening, which is not much time. KSU didn’t exactly pay for this trip.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so sweet,” Seulgi says as she bats her eyelashes. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone. We’ll see each other next season, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol remembers hanging out with Seulgi and her friends back in Four Continents, in Gangneung. It was Jaehyun’s birthday, and they had thrown him and the other February birthday celebrants a party in a restaurant. He remembers one of their friends, Kun, who always makes an effort to watch his competitions if it’s within his budget, but always leaves messages of encouragement whether or not he does watch a competition. It’s heartwarming that these fans would go out of their way to make skaters feel appreciated, even if others—sometimes even the federation—don’t appreciate them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s going to miss this attention when he retires.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re in deep thought,” Yuta says, his hand warm on Hansol’s thigh. They had bid goodbye to Seulgi and had ended up in this small ramen restaurant, a favorite haunt of theirs whenever Hansol is in Osaka.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol smiles apologetically. “I just realized how much I’m going to miss Seulgi and the others when I retire. Whenever that will be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No more large, obnoxious banners with your name and face?” Yuta chuckles, sipping on his ramen broth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That, too,” Hansol laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know them. They’ll still keep in touch,” Yuta tells him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta lifts the edge of the bowl to his lips as he sips the last of his broth. When he puts it down and wipes the edges of his lips with tissue, he looks at Hansol. “I wanna tell you something,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol can sense the rare flicker of hesitation in Yuta’s eyes. He doesn’t have a bad feeling about it, but … “Are you breaking up with me?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Idiot.” Yuta laughs and shoves his arm. “I love you too much, silly. Why would I do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just checking.” Hansol ignores the painful stretch in his cheeks from smiling too widely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve only told Yuzuru about this …” Yuta looks down at his now-empty bowl. “But when I didn’t make it to the Olympic team in Sochi, I was planning on retiring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol’s eyes widen. Yuta definitely had not told him, and he had never expected it either. Yuta had looked disappointed after not making it to the Olympic team in Sochi, but he was back to his usual optimistic self, promising to work harder to make it in Pyeongchang this time. Hansol had never seen the signs. Suddenly, he feels so selfish for wallowing in his own failures, that he didn’t realize Yuta had been struggling with the same thoughts, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What made you think of retiring?” Hansol asks, when he finds his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess it’s those moments when you think it’s your time, and I didn’t deliver when I needed to,” Yuta says. “I guess it didn’t help that your best friend was the favorite to win the Olympics, and you didn’t want to be the best friend in the shadows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t doing so great that season.” Yuta grimaces as he remembers. “The fans called me a popstar out of endearment, but it was still frustrating, you know? I felt like I was throwing points away. And when I bombed at Nationals, I thought what was the point of staying if there were so many better people out there that wouldn’t bring the country down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol knows that feeling. It was a feeling he had struggled with since London, Ontario. “What made you change your mind?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol can detect a shade of pink in his boyfriend’s cheeks. “You, actually.” Yuta chuckles when Hansol’s eyes widen. “I’m serious! I saw you show up for practice in Vancouver after Sochi, and I wanted to be as strong as you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol couldn’t believe what he was hearing. All this time, he had relied on Yuta’s optimism and strength to help him push through in bad days, whether it’s training or competitions. He didn’t realize Yuta had been relying on him, too. He smiles and reaches for his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be. I didn’t want to burden you, especially when you’ve got a lot on your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, I’m always here to listen.” Hansol thinks he might have said it a little harshly, but he’s anything but mad. He understands why Yuta had to keep to himself his thoughts on retiring, but Hansol wished he should have known. If there’s one thing he learned these past few months, it’s that it’s better to tell someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta sighs and leans his head on Hansol’s shoulder. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you gonna do now?” Hansol asks. “Are you planning to retire after the Olympics?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta squeezes his hand. “I don’t see myself retiring after Pyeongchang, but I don’t see myself in Beijing either,” he says. “I’ll probably stick around for a year or two. Someone’s gotta take care of Shoma if Yuzuru’s not around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol laughs at that. “Such a dedicated parent. Jaemin’s gonna get jealous if you don’t visit him too often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhhh, he’ll get his chance. I try not to play favorites as a parent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stay in silence, Yuta’s head on his shoulder, their fingers intertwined. It’s in these moments of silence that Hansol gets to appreciate having Yuta in his life. He can’t imagine being vulnerable to anyone else. His friends have seen him in his worst, but it’s Yuta who’s the first person to rush to his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol wishes he can return the favor, ten times over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about to head to bed when his phone rings. He shifts to get his phone in his pocket before heading to the lobby so as not to disturb the other people in the room. Jisung’s name is on the caller ID, and Hansol wonders why the younger one is calling him. “Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung, I did it!” Jisung screeches that Hansol had to withdraw the phone from his ear for a couple of seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did what?” Hansol asks when the phone is back in his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I landed a triple axel!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol would have screamed had he not realized instantly that the receptionist is still there. His eyes widen as he processes the information. “Just now?” he manages to say, uncharacteristically calm given the announcement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! Ten minutes ago! Coach Shin and I were doing night practice, and I did it! Full three-and-a-half rotations, hyung! I’ve worked on this jump for years, and I finally did it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s—great!” Hansol cannot resist the grin spreading to his face and the warmth spreading to his chest. The triple axel is surely a confidence booster for Jisung, especially for next season.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna do it, hyung,” Jisung continues, still out of breath. “I’m gonna try for the Junior Grand Prix qualifying competition.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol’s not sure if he’s heard it correctly. “You’re gonna try for the Junior Grand Prix qualifying competition?” he repeats. Then again, it makes sense. Jisung had been hanging out with Jeno and Donghyuck, who are already Korea’s top junior skaters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! I’m pretty confident the triple axel is gonna help my chances!” Jisung declares. “If I get in, it’s gonna be my first Junior Grand Prix, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” Hansol says. “I’m so happy for you. I’m glad you’ve finally decided to do this. Competing internationally is gonna be a great experience for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are a few seconds of silence. “We’re gonna be like you and Taeyong hyung and Jaehyun hyung,” Jisung continues. “The Korea Men’s Holy Trinity. Thanks for inspiring me, hyung.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I barely did anything,” Hansol points out, although a strange surge of emotion takes over. “I just coached you for, what, an hour?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But hyung,” Jisung adds, “you were one of the reasons I wanted to continue skating, you know? Even if you didn’t make it to Sochi, you still went out there and continued your season. I want to be as determined as you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, it’s official. Hansol’s stomach squirms, his face contorting into an emotion he doesn’t want to show in public. But this is Jisung, young and sweet and surprisingly mature beyond his years. And apparently someone he had spurred to never give up, even if his plans didn’t go his way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, I gotta go, hyung. I’ll send you a clip of the jump. Let me know what you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. I’m proud of you, kiddo.” Hansol sniffs, and hopes Jisung didn’t hear that from the other line.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coach Shin is calling me again. I’ll talk to you again soon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup. Bye, Jisung.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As promised, Hansol receives a video attachment on his KakaoTalk. He watches as Jisung sets up for the jump, approaching the triple axel better than what he had seen before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there it was, three-and-a-half full rotations. As soon as Jisung lands, his jaw drops and he pumps his fists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His chest swells as he watches the video all over again. It was the product of Jisung’s hard work, but it feels wonderful that somehow, he played a role in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if he had spent the last four years feeling rock-bottom, unsure of his career.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grips his phone tightly before deciding to call Yuta.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just before Hansol flies off to Seoul, he and Yuta meet for breakfast and do a bit of sightseeing. Hansol ends up buying souvenirs because he’s very sure Taeyong and Jaehyun would ask for them when he gets home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta puts his hands together and closes his eyes in prayer. Hansol would have preferred to just stare and think, but he feels self-conscious when he finds out he’s the only tourist who’s not praying, so he copies Yuta’s gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s strange, how being in temples makes him contemplative. The last time he had gone on one beyond casual exploration was in 2013. He and his family had gone to the temple by the sea to pray for luck; he had just won the silver medal at Nationals and was South Korea’s representative for Worlds in Ontario, the Olympic qualifiers. Hansol was never the type to pray sincerely (he thought hard work would still go a long way), but he did imagine himself getting into the Top 24 while his family was praying. Looking back, maybe a little prayer could have helped his chances, but it’s too late now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His coach had told him to move on from Worlds 2013, but he can’t find himself to do so. It was the start of his career falling apart, placing lower than he’s used to, being overtaken not just by Taeyong and Jaehyun, but also by younger skaters. Donghyuck has a quad now. Jeno is working on one, and Jisung is begging Coach Shin to let him start training for one even if he had just landed his triple axel. Meanwhile, he can barely land one quad, much more another. The netizen is right—he’s being left behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s inevitable, now that he realized it. He knows his career is coming to an end, but is he going to end it now? The conversation with Jisung had him thinking twice. He thought it would be easy to say he had enough of the sport, but apparently, it’s easier said than done. How can he just hang up his skates when he had been skating his whole life? How is he going to deal with waking up fully aware he doesn’t have to go to the rink anymore? What is he going to do when all he knows is aching bodies and crossovers and jumps?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you thinking about?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol opens his eyes. Yuta’s gaze is still on the shrine, as if it holds the secrets of the world. “The usual questions,” he answers. “I might have figured something out along the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” A small smile spreads to Yuta’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a sudden thought. Hansol had thought about what he should do for a long time, but the decision hadn’t reached him this clearly and suddenly. He guesses if it’s this clear and sudden, then he must be doing the right thing. “I’ll stay for one more season,” he declares. “I’ll aim for the Olympics. If I don’t make it, then I’ll end my season in Nationals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta doesn’t react, but he turns his gaze towards Hansol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ll be able to figure out my place in Korean figure skating if I don’t give it one last shot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta nods as he reaches for Hansol’s hand. “Whatever path you’ll take, I’ll be right there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol nods back and squeezes Yuta’s hand in return. Now that he has decided, there’s no turning back. All that’s left now is to tell the others …</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Easier said than done.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello!</p><p>as expected, law school is making me busier than ever. but not to worry. i'm doing my best to finish this fic. but please do expect delays in updates.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He tells his parents when they come over to visit the weekend later. There’s no denying the sagging of his mother’s shoulders as he makes the announcement. Somehow, Hansol feels relieved as well. At least that’s one last season of his parents worrying about whether he has eaten well, has slept well, is injured, or whether he has enough money to get by.</p><p>He then calls his coach, who doesn’t sound surprised either. Then again, he had also hinted about his plans to retire after Worlds 2013. Coach Joanne tells him to get ready after <em> All That Skate </em>. “We’ll make sure you end your career with a bang.”</p><p>And then there’s a meeting with the KSU. The heads were impassive as they listened to Hansol, but he already knows that they’re relieved that they’re losing dead weight. More funds to allocate to more skaters that bring better results.</p><p>He thinks twice before telling Team VSC. They’re his friends for a decade, his rink mates for six years. The pain of Johnny retiring may have worn out, but the mere mention of it causes wounds to open again. He’s not sure how he’ll tell them another training mate will be leaving them soon.</p><p>“It’s not gonna be easy, but they have to know,” Yuta tells him over a video call. “We’ll tell them after <em> All That Skate </em>. At least I’ll be there.”</p><p>Hansol sighs in relief. “I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.”</p><p>“You’ll be fine. We all will be.”</p><p>The days pass by quickly that the next thing Hansol knows is that the week of <em> All That Skate </em> has arrived. Hansol approaches the week with a mix of excitement and dread. He’s excited to see all his friends again, but he’s dreading their final night in Seoul, in which he has to tell everyone about his retirement. Taeyong and Jaehyun have already planned to take Team VSC to their favorite chicken and beer place, and Hansol has planned to drop the bomb on that night.</p><p>What’s worse, Yuta has pulled out of the cast list at the last minute. “JSF wants me to help promote the Olympics with the rest of the team. They got us into this variety show of this huge male idol group,” he says with a pout over their video call. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, it’s okay,” Hansol sighs. He wants someone to back him up when he finally makes the announcement, but … “I’m terrified, though.”</p><p>“You’ll be fine,” Yuta says with a smile. “I have a feeling they’ll take it better than your program music choices.” He laughs when Hansol snorts. “They’re not going to be happy, but in the end, it’s your decision. And if they won’t be supportive of it, I’ll beat them up the moment I see them back in Vancouver.”</p><p>“Psycho.” Hansol shouldn’t be laughing, but he does anyway.</p><p>Hansol makes the most of the week, bonding with his training mates and the rest of the cast as they come. The best thing about being in an ice show is that they remember why they love skating in the first place—despite sore bodies from practice, there’s camaraderie, dedication to the music, and the support of the audience.</p><p>They memorize the group numbers that Ten has choreographed for them, but it’s the new programs that usually get the crowd excited. Most of Team Korea already has at least one competitive program that they’ll debut as an exhibition program for <em> All That Skate </em> . Another reason for the KSU rushing them to get at least one competitive program done is to generate excitement for the Olympics and, of course, get the attendance rate up. He has heard that <em> All That Skate </em> tickets were sold out, which has not happened since Yuna’s final <em> All That Skate </em>.</p><p>Hansol joins the rest of the cast for a tour of Seoul, with Ten properly documenting the event in his social media accounts. He, Taeyong, and Jaehyun are very willing tour guides, taking them to the city’s most touristy spots. They shop in Myeongdong, explore the Hanok Village, and try all the food from the street stalls in Insadong. Their last stop is in Namsan Tower, where he and Donghyuck coax Mark and Eunji, then Johnny and Ten, to buy a padlock to add to the growing love locks collection in the tower. It was successful, he happily reports to Yuta, who spams their chat thread with thumbs-up emojis.</p><p>The two shows were a success. The audience loved everyone’s programs, whether it’s an actual exhibition program or a teaser to a competitive program next season. He’s relieved to hear mostly cheers when he debuts his <em> Feelin’ Good </em> short program (he blatantly ignores the groans from his training mates), and cheers turned to squeals when he skates to <em> Hide and Freak </em> . It felt like a K-Pop concert when Taeyong skated to his <em> Mirotic </em> short program, while several swooned when Jaehyun skated to <em> A Whole New World </em> . However, the highlight of the shows was when Donghyuck came in a wig and a red dress, skating to Red Velvet’s <em> Russian Roulette </em>. Hansol is relieved he managed to dodge the Potato Challenge this year, and he relishes Donghyuck’s embarrassment as he performs.</p><p>Hansol joins the rest of the cast for the finale, skating a lap around the arena to wave at the crowd. He takes it all in—the light sticks, the cheers to his name. This may be his last ice show; he’s already inclined to a career after competitive skating, but he’s not sure if he’ll ever have the time to do this again. He’ll surely miss this—the energy, the crowd, goofing off with his friends …</p><p>“You okay, hyung?”</p><p>Hansol quashes the lump in his throat as he looks over his shoulder. Taeyong is right behind him, frowning in concern. Suddenly, he remembers that he has to tell Team VSC before they all fly to Vancouver. The thought makes his stomach squirm, but he has to do it. He manages a smile. “Yeah,” he says. “Just relieved this is over, that’s all.”</p><p>Taeyong is about to say something else when he hears Donghyuck calling their names. He’s with Mark, Jaehyun, and Ten, huddled at the center of the rink, while the ladies, pairs, and ice dance skaters skate by the sides, cheering them on. “Come on, hyungs!” Donghyuck says. “It’s time for our quad battle!”</p><p>Hansol and Taeyong share a nervous laugh before joining the others.</p><p>(Hansol ends up falling on his quad. To his relief, the audience doesn’t seem to mind.)</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The cast heads back to their hotel after getting changed. Some of them are too exhausted to organize an impromptu after-party, while others had to fly back to their training rinks to get ready for next season. Hansol’s heart is pounding furiously as he heads to the lobby to meet Johnny, Taeyong, Ten, and Jaehyun. Five minutes later, they’re in a chicken and beer restaurant, pigging out and talking about everything under the sun.</p><p>The conversation then shifts to what Hansol has been dreading—life after the Olympics. Ten had mentioned his desire to be a choreographer. To his surprise, Taeyong and Jaehyun seem to have plans of taking a break, too.</p><p>Johnny is just as surprised as he is. “The two of you are too young to be retiring after the Olympics,” he tells Taeyong and Jaehyun. He doesn’t sound surprised at Ten’s announcement, but then again, Ten must have told Johnny already.</p><p>“We’re probably just going to take a quick break and skip some Challenger competitions,” Jaehyun says. “We’ll be back in the GPs, then maybe see what happens.”</p><p>“I might start taking up coaching lessons,” Taeyong says. “But I’ll still compete. I just want to be sure that by the time I give up competitive skating for good, I know where I’ll be going next.”</p><p>“How about you, Hansol?” Ten asks, beaming when he gets the last piece of chicken before Taeyong does. “Any post-Olympics plans?”</p><p>This is it. This is his chance to tell his friends. He finishes the rest of the beer to hopefully calm him down or make him feel braver. He then calls the waiter to get another bucket before taking a deep breath.</p><p>“Actually … I talked to KSU last week. I’ll be announcing my retirement after next season.”</p><p>Silence envelops the table. Johnny leans back against his seat, taking a deep breath. Ten is staring at him, jaw dropped open, while Jaehyun is blinking at him rapidly, as if trying to convince himself Hansol is going to yell “Just kidding!” and they’ll be back to fooling around.</p><p>It feels like an eternity before someone speaks up. “Why?” Taeyong asks.</p><p>Hansol straightens up in his seat. “It’s something I’ve considered for the past two years, and I feel like it’s the right thing to do next season,” he says. “I mean, after the Olympics, there will be younger, better kids out there who dream of being in the next Olympics, and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep up. I mean, Donghyuck will be going to the senior ranks next season, and he lands his quads better than I do. At this rate, he might get the third spot for the Olympics.”</p><p>“Nonsense.” Jaehyun shakes his head. “We love Donghyuck, but we’d rather you get to go to Pyeongchang.”</p><p>Hansol smiles at that. It’s heartwarming to know that Taeyong and Jaehyun believe in him, even if Hansol thought these past few years that he’s dead weight. “I know. I want to go to the Olympics, and I’ll do my best to get that spot. But I’m managing my expectations. In case the worst happens, I’m ready.”</p><p>“You’re sure about this, right?” Johnny asks. “Life after retirement isn’t easy.”</p><p>Hansol nods. “I’m sure.” The atmosphere still feels heavy, so he attempts a joke. “Besides, at least now you’ll have another member in the VSC Uncle Club.”</p><p>“I am not an uncle, excuse you—” Johnny retorts, reaching forward so he can pinch Hansol on the cheek. Everyone else laughs, and Hansol is relieved the tension dissipates.</p><p>“Does Yuta know?” Ten asks when the laughter has died down.</p><p>Hansol’s expression softens. “Of course, he does. He’s one of the first ones to know. Surprisingly, he took it quite well.”</p><p>“Were you expecting him to fall down on his knees, tear-stricken, begging for you to change your mind?” Johnny asks with a smirk.</p><p>Hansol sniggers. If Johnny’s going to go there … “Well, he did fall down on his knees, but not because—”</p><p>“We don’t need to know that, thank you very much!” Johnny yells, appalled. Hansol can’t resist rolling his eyes and laughing, ignoring the other customers and staff suddenly staring at their direction.</p><p>Hansol rolls his eyes, and he continues when the color is back in Johnny’s face. “He was very calm about it. I actually wanted to retire after this season, but he helped encourage me to stay until the Olympic season. Then he asked what I want to do after the Olympics.”</p><p>“Which is …?”</p><p>“Go back to school and finally graduate. Then I’ll sign up for the military. When I’m done with military duties, I’ll probably study to become a technical specialist.”</p><p>Silence envelops the table once more. Hansol watches as his friends stare at each other, making silent conversations. He understands it’s not going to be easy for them. Heck, they couldn’t train properly when Johnny retired. But whether they accept his retirement or not, Hansol’s sure that this season will be his last.</p><p>It’s Taeyong who speaks up. “Look, hyung, it’s your decision in the end,” he says. “Sure, it’s gonna suck for us because we’ll miss you when you’ve retired, but if this is what you really want, then we’ll support you.”</p><p>Hansol’s shoulders relax at those words.</p><p>“If next season will be your last, then we’ll support you in making it count,” Jaehyun chimes in with a smile.</p><p>“We’ll definitely cheer you on,” Ten adds, mirroring Jaehyun’s smile.</p><p>Johnny hasn’t spoken yet. His eyes are glazed as he stares at his empty bottle of beer. Hansol’s not sure if the conversation brought back bad memories, and somehow he feels terrible for triggering it. But just as he’s about to apologize, Johnny looks up at him, his expression gentle. “Look, I’ve been there,” he says. “At least you’ve got it all planned out now, compared to my situation …” He chuckles; Hansol doesn’t want to assume it’s a sad one. “I’m totally cool about it, man. I’ll help you out.”</p><p>Hansol doesn’t know how he deserved friends like these. The thought of retirement is still scary, even though he’s sure he’ll be doing it. But at least he knows he won’t be alone in this.</p><p>And for that, he’s glad.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Hi everyone! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Olympic season is about to start soon. After All That Skate, I will take a rest, polish my programs with my choreographer, then fly back to Vancouver to prepare for next season. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I would also like to tell everyone that next season will be my last. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I have thought about retirement at the lowest point of my career. These past few years weren’t exactly the best for me, either, and I contemplated whether it was still worth staying and competing. Finally, I made up my mind recently. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don’t get me wrong. I’m not retiring because it’s not worth staying and competing anymore. I think I still have something to give for figure skating, but I have a hunch that I will find the answer to my questions next season. And I will still aim for my dream—the Olympics in my home country. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To my family, my friends, and my fans. I hope you will support me until the very end. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - Ji Hansol </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Despite feeling light following his retirement announcement—he didn’t expect to receive so many warm wishes from fans and fellow skaters alike—Hansol dreads the flight back to Vancouver. He’s not going to deny that he loves skating, but, like many other skaters, he often dreads the training part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, coming back to Vancouver feels like coming home. The Vancouver Skating Club had been, after all, his main rink for the past six years. His English is still shit, but the staff at the rink are patient in dealing with his needs—he’s not the only foreigner training in this rink, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He enters the locker room to find Mark lacing up his boots. The boy looks up, and his face brightens. “Hyung!” he greets, standing up and almost stumbling before giving Hansol a one-armed hug. “How are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still jet-lagged, but I’ll manage.” Hansol pulls away and opens the nearest locker he could find. He then opens his bag and starts changing. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I guess,” he says. “Still trying to figure out what my free skate music should be. I wanna train my quad sal, but Coach Lee insists on the basics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah.” Hansol knows the feeling. He understands their coaches—a well-rounded skater needs to have polished basic skating skills, and while he appreciates the comments that their skating skills have improved, they are more or less in agreement that they need more time to work on jumps, because the huge chunk of points lie on the technical elements. But it never hurts to have your PCS up a point. “I know the feeling, but it’s things like these which will help us get to the Olympics, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he’s about to lace his skates, he notices that Mark is still there. And he’s looking at Hansol expectantly. It’s these moments that he realizes that, despite hanging out with them most of the time, Mark is still a teenager.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mark looks down and bites his bottom lip. Hansol waits for him to reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung,” he finally speaks, “are you really going to retire?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mark had looked pained when Hansol made the retirement announcement to him after he announced it to the others. Then again, maybe the wounds of Johnny’s sudden retirement are still fresh to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bad flashbacks?” he tries, just to be sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy nods. “I mean, I don’t wanna stop you or anything. But it’s gonna suck that I won’t be seeing you in the rink next year.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel the same, though.” Hansol sighs, sitting next to Mark on the bench. “But I made up my mind. And besides, we’ll still see each other somehow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but it still sucks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mark opens his mouth, but the door opens, and Johnny’s head pops out. “Ready to go, kiddo?” he asks. He then blinks when he sees Hansol. “Dude!” he exclaims, finally stepping in the locker room. “You didn’t tell me you’re going to practice today!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol grins and shrugs. “Gotta get used to the rink again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johnny chuckles. “By the way, that surprise for Yuta? That was really sweet,” he remarks. “Ten had been telling me for hours on end how you two were relationship goals after what happened. I feel sorry for his future boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay to feel sorry for yourself every now and then,” Mark says, smirking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol would have expected Johnny to choke on air then laugh about it. However, Johnny’s eyes widen, his face turning into a dark shade of red. “W-What are you talking about?” he says, his voice going an embarrassingly high pitch. “Come on, Mark. Coach Lee is waiting for us.” But without waiting for Mark, he fumbles for the doorknob and slams the door on the way out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol and Mark exchange glances. “What was that about?” Mark asks in awe. “He usually flat out laughs about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol remembers Johnny and Ten separating from the group after their chicken and beer dinner, with Ten saying something about getting spicy ramyun and banana milk. Something must have happened there, but he can only guess. “Maybe he finally realized he’s in love with Ten?” he guesses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mark laughs. “That’ll be the day. Who do you think is gonna win the bet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s as soon as we think, it’s Coach Lee.” Hansol makes a mental note to ask Taeil, a figure skating fan who runs a blog, and who also happens to consolidate all the bets from all skaters and fans as to when Johnny and Ten will finally become a couple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh boy, this is gonna be fun.” Mark rubs his hands together in excitement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You better go,” Hansol says. He realizes he hasn’t changed yet. “Coach Lee is looking for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right …” Mark doesn’t show any signs of moving from his spot, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you gonna go out?” Hansol points out after some stretch of silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um …” Mark scratches the back of his head. “Hyung …?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m still bummed about the whole retirement announcement, but I support whatever you do, okay? Just … give me some time to wrap my head around it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol smiles, stepping forward to ruffle Mark’s hair. “I know, kiddo. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol is grateful to return to his training routine. Now that he has made his decision, it’s time for him to work on making sure he does his best on his final season. Never mind the medals in international competitions. Heck, he’s totally okay if he doesn’t get a Grand Prix assignment this time. All that matters is a podium finish in all three qualifying competitions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because if he doesn’t make it on the podium, his journey to the Olympics will end before it will even begin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The atmosphere in the rink is more serious than it has ever been. Coach Lee, Coach Brian, and Coach Joanne have worked together to come up with a strict training regimen for them. It’s a two-month program that will train them from skating skills down to the jumps. He catches his training mates grimacing at each other as they browse their training program, which will only give them the weekends to rest, instead of their usual Friday-Saturday-Sunday rest days. Rigorous as it may seem, they know they have to do this, if they want to make it to Pyeongchang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The program begins when Yuta returns from Japan, looking more rested despite participating in ice shows every week. They work on basic skating skills for two weeks, then work on their jumps off-ice. Coach Joanne, in particular, had asked Hansol to work on his quad toe and triple axel, the jumps he struggles the most on. It’s easy to land the jumps off-ice—Hansol is more concerned about what will happen on ice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the trips to the dance studio that Hansol enjoys the most. It may aim to improve one’s musicality, but it’s the most relaxing part of the program. Here, Hansol can forget about the building pressure and just let go and lose himself in the music. He just hopes he can bring this level of energy in his programs this season.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s something different about you these days,” Yuta points out one day. Yuta had crashed in his, Taeyong, and Jaehyun’s apartment while he was packing. Their program in VSC is over, and they’re set to fly to Toronto to work on jumps with Brian Orser. Hanyu Yuzuru and Javier Fernandez will be there, much to everyone’s excitement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol sits on top of his luggage in an attempt to squeeze in all its contents, to no avail. “What makes you think there’s something different in me?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta tilts his head; Hansol finds it cute when the younger one does that. “I still haven’t figured it out,” he says with a chuckle. “But I think that difference is good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you sure the difference is good when you haven’t figured it out yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yuta makes a strangled sound and tackles Hansol off the luggage, causing the luggage contents to pop out like confetti. “Just shut up and take a compliment!” he laughs, clinging to Hansol like a koala.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s one thing to train in a different rink, but another thing to train with an Olympic champion and a two-time World champion. He and Yuzuru may be in occasional communication (after Hansol had gotten over the green-eyed monster), and he may have held a ten-minute conversation with Javier Fernandez on a couple of conversations, but it’s still surreal to train with the best of the best. Hansol just hopes that a bit of greatness will rub on him somehow, even if it’s wishful thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Toronto Cricket Club is packed with skaters from all disciplines that it’s a miracle they managed to fit at all. Still, Brian Orser approaches each coach and skater, consults them on where they struggle technically, and gives tips on how to do a jump better. Hansol finally figures out what he’s doing wrong in his quad toe and triple axel and finally lands the jumps effortlessly after what feels like a lifetime.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s now a matter of un-learning the previous technique,” Brian tells him after their final session. “It’s going to be difficult, but it’s a matter of doing the technique over and over again until it’s natural like breathing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol nods. “Right.” Out with the bad, in with the new. It’ll be his new motto for the season.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as their training in Toronto has wrapped up, Hansol, Taeyong, and Jaehyun depart for Korea for the KSU’s qualifying competition. The skating union has very stringent criteria in selecting the national and the Olympic team, and doing well in this competition, added to one’s performances throughout the season up to Nationals, will boost skaters’ chances to be chosen for the team.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s more of a bloodbath for the ladies, given there are only two spots. But that doesn’t mean the men could relax because they have three spots for the Olympics. Taeyong and Jaehyun, who were more or less locked in for the two spots, couldn’t slack off because anyone else from the younger skaters could suddenly take their spot. As for the third spot, that has to have Hansol’s name in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’ll make sure of that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol can already feel the tense atmosphere when he enters the rink for practice. He spots Jeno and Jisung already in the rink, Jisung just falling on a triple lutz. The music stops, and Jeno skates to the center of the rink, striking his opening pose. Hansol would have wanted to watch some more, but a KSU volunteer directs them to the locker rooms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung, I think you should relax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol looks up from lacing his boots to see Taeyong grinning at him. Hansol frowns. “What makes you think I’m not relaxed?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have this huge frown on your face, and you’ve messed up the lace in your boots one too many times,” Taeyong points out. “Seriously, hyung, it’s only Day 1 of practice today. We can make as many mistakes as we want today, and leave all those mistakes out of the competition.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong has a very good point. He can make all the mistakes he wants in practice, as long as he skates cleanly in competition. Hansol finally laces his skates properly and follows Taeyong and Jaehyun to the rink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rink area is noisier when they get to the boards. He can hear shutters of cameras and excited chatter. Gustav Holst’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Planets</span>
  </em>
  <span> booms all over the arena, and when Hansol looks, Donghyuck is gliding across the ice, deftly avoiding Jeno, who had popped a triple axel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol hates to admit it, but he has come to understand how Donghyuck is, in some ways, the better skater between the two of them. Aside from a more consistent jump technique and better transitions to jumps, Donghyuck’s jumps have improved considerably, no doubt honed after being under Brian Orser.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart sinks as it starts creeping up on him once more that Donghyuck could take that third spot anytime, and he wouldn’t stand a chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyung!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol slightly lurches after a hand pushes him. Jaehyun is smiling at him, a small that usually puts him at ease. “It’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>practice</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jaehyun says firmly, shoving Hansol once more to the boards. “You’ll be fine, hyung.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol takes a deep breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just practice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he tells himself. It’s not the actual competition.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cheers erupt the rink when Donghyuck finishes his run-through, but the cheers become louder when he, Taeyong, and Jaehyun take to the ice. Donghyuck brightens up, high-fiving Taeyong and Jaehyun as they skate past each other. Hansol sees Donghyuck coming to his direction, but Hansol pretends not to see and skates the other way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coach Joanne is in Canada helping Yuta prepare for a competition in Philadelphia, which means Hansol is on his own. Not that he minds, because this is just a domestic competition and the coaches of other coaches aren’t present either. Still, he’s grateful that Coach Shin and Coach Chi were there, guiding them even though they’re now coaching the younger skaters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol prioritizes his jumps in the run-through, especially the quad toe, since that’s the only jump he can’t seem to land properly since his last run-through. As expected, practice doesn’t go the way he wants to, and he either keeps falling on the jump or two-footing it. Hansol grits his teeth every time and tries again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First day of practice is over, however, and he still hasn’t landed it properly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can maybe try adjusting your takeoff technique to the quad, hyung,” Taeyong suggests when they return to the locker room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol blinks, hand freezing from wiping his face with a towel. “What do you mean?” he asks. He doesn’t know if he can afford last-minute changes to anything but he’s also desperate to land his quad properly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong frowns, slamming the door of his locker. “It’s kind of hard to explain in theory,” he says. “We can get the rink to ourselves in unofficial practice, and I’ll show you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Hansol asks. He appreciates the help, but the thought of Taeyong losing practice time for Hansol doesn’t sit well with him. “You don’t have to do this just because I’m retiring, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong laughs. “Hyung, relax, I want to help,” he says. “Really, I do. You’d do the same for me, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Hansol would, if there’s anything to correct at all. Taeyong is one of the most well-rounded figure skaters he had ever encountered in his career. He has improved on his technique and consistency, and he gives so much commitment to his programs. And if there’s one thing Hansol is jealous of the most, it’s Taeyong’s artistry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he guesses, if there’s anyone who he’s willing to get help from, it’s from well-rounded figure skater Lee Taeyong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs and smiles. “You’re right,” he says. “Thanks, Taeyong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hansol thinks the world is fucking with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because that new takeoff technique that Taeyong taught him worked wonders, and Hansol has landed properly his first quad toe since he arrived in Seoul. It’s risky to make changes without Coach Joanne’s permission, but Hansol thinks that if he doesn’t try it now, well, who knows what will happen?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong’s “coaching” actually worked so well that he ended up winning the entire competition, with Taeyong in silver and Donghyuck in bronze. The entire rink looks shaken to the core, but his juniors look happy with the results, and their energy after the victory ceremony was infectious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I kind of feel bad that you had to teach me and then you ended up placing lower than me, though,” Hansol confides in Taeyong when they stepped down on the podium for the victory lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taeyong grins and shrugs. “It’s no big deal, hyung,” he says. “It’s one competition. I can kick your ass next time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha.” Hansol laughs. This is completely possible, but he’s happy to be on top of the podium after what feels like forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe the goal of being in the Olympics isn’t as far-fetched as it seems anymore.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sort-of important announcement:</p>
<p>if you're one of my mutuals on twitter, i think you've seen my announcement that i'll be deactivating my account and will be lying low from nct and k-pop in general.
</p><p>that being said, i will continue updating this, though you probably won't be updated until it's posted on ao3.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hansol returns to Vancouver with Taeyong and Jaehyun, this time with a spring in his step. Coach Joanne lightly reprimands him for adjusting his takeoff technique without consulting her, but she approves of the move nonetheless. “I think that’s a huge confidence booster for you,” she tells him.</p>
<p>“You think so?” Hansol asks.</p>
<p>“Absolutely. A victory in your first competition of the season should do wonders for you.”</p>
<p>Hansol hopes so, too. He’s not really expecting to win again, just boost his chances of being considered for the Olympic team. That’s really the end goal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His feelings about training and the season ahead come in two different waves.</p>
<p>One is when Hansol trains and trains and trains. He works on his mistakes stays in the rink until someone in the VSC staff kicks him out. He wakes up earlier than usual to work out and practice his jumps off-ice, then follow the training regimen Coach Joanne has recommended him to do, and then some more.</p>
<p>His friends have to practically drag him out of the rink. They don’t know what it feels like to be on the edge of being so close to be part of the Olympic team, and getting in feels like a matter of life or death.</p>
<p>(But he reluctantly admits that he does need a break.)</p>
<p>And then there are other days—most days, if he’s honest with himself—when Hansol would practically force himself out of his bed, when he wishes he isn’t training anymore, where he wanted to be anywhere but in the rink, where the mere putting on of boots is a chore, and “What’s the point?” repeat in his head like a broken record.</p>
<p>He wishes Nationals would come sooner. Hansol just wants to get everything over with.</p>
<p>When he had had enough of that feeling, he calls Coach Boa. It’s one in the morning in Vancouver, but it’s still evening in Seoul, and he hopes Coach Boa isn’t busy.</p>
<p>Coach Boa would understand.</p>
<p>She did, laughing softly after Hansol related his feelings. “I had that feeling all the time since I came back,” she says. “I had this internal countdown at the back of my mind, waiting for Nationals to be over with.”</p>
<p>“How did you get over it?”</p>
<p>Coach Boa hums. “I can’t really remember,” she says. “I know I pushed myself to get up every morning and get ready to train.”</p>
<p>Hansol wishes at this point that he has Kwon Boa’s sheer determination and willpower.</p>
<p>“Remember why you thought of ending your career in the Olympics, Hansol,” Coach Boa tells him after a long period of silence.</p>
<p>He does. He remembers sitting in front of the television, watching a tearful Kim Yuna stand atop the Olympic podium, the gold medal around her neck, flags of South Korea being waved all over Pacific Coliseum. He remembers, at fifteen, how he had sworn to himself to train ten times as hard to be in the same place as Yuna was.</p>
<p>Seven years later, to dream of the same dream is unthinkable, but he suddenly remembers what he felt to think of being at the center of the rink, flags of his country and banners in his name being waved as his name was called.</p>
<p>And he remembers he’ll never have that chance again.</p>
<p>It works. It felt less tortuous to get up in the morning, and doubts come to his mind less and less.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The days become a little more bearable, thanks to a change in mindset. Hansol still has those days when he wants to be anywhere but in the rink, he reminds himself that he’s never going to have days like these next year. It works wonders.</p>
<p>The only thing is that he thinks of everything differently now. He makes a mental note to send cards to everyone in the VSC staff (especially Coach Joanne) for being so patient and accommodating with him, especially in his first year in Vancouver. Sometimes he’ll look around the rink on the occasional breaks from practice, because he’s very sure he won’t be able to step on it again.</p>
<p>It hits him harder when he’s in the locker room, each of them acting like old married couples (while Johnny and Ten run more circles around each other, much to everyone’s chagrin), Mark fake gagging at how couple-y everyone is. Once he retires, who knows when all of them would be in the same place again?</p>
<p>He doesn’t know where he’ll be if it weren’t for his friends, Team VSC, and this realization is what hits him the hardest.</p>
<p>“What’s up with you?”</p>
<p>Hansol blinks, almost running into the door of the convenience store. Yuta half-laughs, half-scoffs before pulling it open, letting him out first. They’re met by a strong, cool breeze; it’s always cold in Vancouver, but Hansol will never get used to this. Luckily, Yuta stuffs both of their hands in his coat pocket as they walk back to the younger one’s apartment. It’s a bit of a struggle with them carrying paper bags on their free arms, but it’s something that they’ve done before.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?” Yuta asks, voice soft. “You’re spacing out more than usual.”</p>
<p>Hansol shrugs, his answer as well as an attempt to balance the paper bag on his free arm. “I don’t know,” he answers. “Maybe I’m just starting to miss everything before retirement happens.”</p>
<p>Yuta hums and nods. “I think it’s normal? Like, when I had plans, I started thinking about the things I’ll miss.”</p>
<p>That’s exactly the feeling. “I love all of you guys, and realizing that I won’t be in Vancouver next year sucks.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, definitely. As much as I want everyone to stay in the rink forever.”</p>
<p>Finally, they reach Johnny and Mark’s house, their constant hangout place when they’re all in need of a video game marathon and the only time they can eat anything beyond their prescribed diet. No one usually talks about skating, and it’s one of those rare times Hansol forgets about being an athlete planning to qualify for the Olympics.</p>
<p>During this time, Ji Hansol is a young man in his twenties, hanging out with his friends.</p>
<p>By the time they arrive, Mark and Ten are already immersed in a video game. Jaehyun is helping Taeyong with whatever he’s cooking (which is most likely the famous Lee Taeyong casserole dip that has been the stuff of legends in the figure skating community), and Johnny has emerged from the living room with a box of pizza.</p>
<p>“Got the soda?” Johnny asks.</p>
<p>Hansol and Yuta set down their paper bags on the kitchen counter. “And the chips. And basically everything our coaches told us not to eat.”</p>
<p>“Sweet.”</p>
<p>Soon, they’re all huddled in the living room, taking turns in the video game and yelling at whatever’s happening on screen. A couple of hours later, Taeyong has already fallen asleep on Jaehyun’s lap early in the evening, seemingly oblivious to the chaos surrounding him, though they eventually settle into comfortable silence, mindlessly watching some movie on Netflix.</p>
<p>Hansol cherishes this moment because by next week, the Grand Prix assignments are going to come out. He’s very sure that given his performance from the past season, he’s not going to get a spot, but he can’t help but feel nervous for his rinkmates.</p>
<p>Mark is most likely going to move up to the senior Grand Prix circuit, and that’s no doubt going to put a lot of pressure on him. (Probably on Johnny, too.) Taeyong and Jaehyun definitely bear the biggest pressure among the male skaters in Korea. Yuta just needs a consistent performance throughout the season to be part of Japan’s Top 3. And then there’s Ten, who might get his first Grand Prix assignments, and who bears the pressure of being one of the few Southeast Asian representatives making it to the Winter Olympics.</p>
<p>Hansol finds it weird that he’s more concerned about his rinkmates than he is about himself. He tries not to hope when the KSU had asked him his preferred countries if he does end up getting a Grand Prix assignment or two. Expecting causes heartbreak if he gets disappointed, so he tries not to expect at all.</p>
<p>Then again, that doesn’t mean he’s not going to put pressure on himself to be standing next to his close friends in Gangneung next year. If he’s going to retire after this season, he might as well do all that he can.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By noon the following week, everyone is in the rink cafeteria, huddled over Johnny and his laptop. Taeyong is biting on his nails, Mark is wringing his hands, and the usually calm Jaehyun and Yuta look frazzled. There’s a bottomless pit in Hansol’s stomach, and he can’t make it go away, no matter how many times he has already imagined a funny exhibition program.</p>
<p>“It’s here!” Johnny announces, and everyone yells almost simultaneously as the ISU website shows the links of the Grand Prix assignments. He instantly clicks on the PDF file of the assignments for the men.</p>
<p>And suddenly, everything is a blur—Mark gets his first senior Grand Prix assignments to Skate America and Cup of China. Jaehyun will be competing in Skate America and Trophee de France. Ten practically bawls when he gets his first Grand Prix assignments in Canada and Japan. Taeyong will be in his usual territory in the Cup of China and Rostelecom Cup. And Yuta, as always, will be in the Trophee de France and NHK Trophy.</p>
<p>And as for Hansol?</p>
<p>He finds his name in the middle of the entries list, under Skate Canada.</p>
<p>It’s his only Grand Prix assignment, but still.</p>
<p>“Oh my god!” Yuta yells, shaking Hansol’s shoulders from behind. “Hansol, your name is in there!”</p>
<p>Hansol could only nod numbly, still trying to process the news. He hadn’t been assigned to any Grand Prix event since … four years ago? Three years ago? It’s all blurry now.</p>
<p>“Welcome back to the Grand Prix!” Taeyong squeezes his arm before enveloping him in a hug.</p>
<p>Soon, the rest of the Team VSC joins Taeyong in crushing Hansol into a hug, and the momentary struggle of breathing felt nothing compared to the overwhelming sky-high feeling.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every time Hansol wakes up and checks the training schedule tacked on the bulletin board of the apartment he shares with Taeyong and Jaehyun, a groan always comes out of his mouth. It’s the same training schedule, only packed with more time for jumps and off-ice training.</p>
<p>Beside the bulletin board is a small calendar dedicated just for him, showing his competitions for the rest of the season. He’s scheduled to compete in the Lombardia Trophy in Italy before coming home for the next qualifying tournament and Skate Canada.</p>
<p>Gone are the days where he would be able to sneak in some free time. He’d most likely go home every day tired to the bones.</p>
<p>The days go by in a blur, Hansol and his friends waking up early in the morning for the gym, on-ice training, off-ice training, and the occasional trips for physical therapy. They can’t even go on their regular cheat weekends because more competitions are coming up.</p>
<p>The tension in the rink is palpable. They have less time to slack off. They rarely speak to each other in the locker rooms, though they make up for it with occasional messages in their group chat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>TEN: </strong>istg if i fall on another quad sal one more time</p>
<p><strong>JOHNNY: </strong>You’ll nail it, dw</p>
<p><strong>YUTA: </strong>me but pops on my jumps</p>
<p><strong>HANSOL: </strong>me but my entire skating</p>
<p><strong>TAEYONG: </strong>:(</p>
<p><strong>JAEHYUN: </strong>Boy do I need a beer or two</p>
<p><strong>JAEHYUN: </strong>Challenger next week and I’m a bundle of nerves</p>
<p><strong>JOHNNY: </strong>… You guys don’t have training tom …</p>
<p><strong>TEN: </strong>hmmmmm</p>
<p><strong>TAEYONG: </strong>Where do you guys have in mind?</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They settle for Ten’s apartment, Johnny bringing beer and Taeyong bringing snacks. Mark declines the offer, knowing that his hyungs probably need to blow off some steam. Johnny had mentioned something about Mark on a video call with Donghyuck and Eunji.</p>
<p>“Ah, young love,” Yuta sighs, clutching his chest. “Must be nice to have something like that.”</p>
<p>Hansol raises an eyebrow, though the smirk on his face betrays his true feelings. “Really, Yuta? You’re saying that to my face?”</p>
<p>Yuta laughs, throwing his arms over Hansol. “I’m kidding.”</p>
<p>Ten fake gags. “PDA much?”</p>
<p>“Oh, please, Ten, this isn’t all of our PDA.” Yuta smirks. “And if you’re so touchy about it, find a boyfriend. Or maybe go for Johnny here. You two are the only single ones in the hyung line.”</p>
<p>This time, Johnny chokes on the beer he’s drinking. “A-Are you hearing yourself right now?” he counters, his cheeks red.</p>
<p>Hansol could sense the mental, collective rolling of eyes from Yuta, Taeyong, and Jaehyun. There’s also no mistaking the sagging of Ten’s shoulders.</p>
<p>
  <em>Idiots. Both of them.</em>
</p>
<p>“Man,” Jaehyun says, pushing his bottle of beer aside. “You’d think you dreamt of this all your life, and then suddenly you dread thinking about it.”</p>
<p>They all hum in agreement. They all grew up watching the past Olympics and dreaming to be in that moment one day. Hansol very clearly remembers glued to the television screen, watching figure skating programs. He was seven back then, transfixed with Alexei Yagudin’s footwork in his short program. At that moment, he knew he wanted to pull off a program as entrancing as that.</p>
<p>Then, figure skating became his life. He learned that perfection meant routine, hard work, and occasionally luck. Hansol clung to those dreams and lost hope at the same time. And now, he’s practically hanging by a thread and clinging to the last strings of hope he has left.</p>
<p>Because anything could happen. He could be standing side by side with Taeyong and Jaehyun in that opening ceremony in Gangneung, or he could be sitting in front of his television, wondering what would have happened if he made it.</p>
<p>Hansol rolls his eyes, accepting the bottle. “Nah, wanna get out of this sport, stat. And I’m gonna do it with a bang.”</p>
<p>Taeyong snorts. “Yeah, with <em>Bolero</em>.”</p>
<p>The six of them burst into laughter.</p>
<p>“I’ll have you know, Taeyong, that I am going to end my career as Mr. Warhorse, my legacy. I will go down in history as the skater who continuously skated to overused music.”</p>
<p>“I will create a shrine at the KSU for you, then.” Taeyong, cheeks flushed, raises his glass. “To Mr. Warhorse!”</p>
<p>Hansol practically guffaws as he and his friends clink their bottles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next thing Hansol knows is that September has arrived and that the Challenger seasons have started. Ten already had a head start by winning the gold medal at the Asian Open Trophy.</p>
<p>(Donghyuck had also recently won both his JGP competitions and is a top contender going into the Junior Grand Prix Final. There’s no pressure. Really. At least, Hansol does his best not to feel the pressure.)</p>
<p>Soon, he and Yuta pack their bags to head to Bergamo, Italy for the Lombardia Trophy. Thankfully Coach Joanne is with them now, and Hansol doesn’t feel that lost compared to the qualifying competition. That, and Yuta’s with him, too. They have been to Italy for different competitions, but really, Hansol is more excited about the sight-seeing they’ll be doing afterward.</p>
<p>But first, he has to get the whole competition over with.</p>
<p>He may have won the first ranking competition back home, but a Challenger competition is a different story. The competition is tougher, the field consisting mostly of skaters at the top of the world standings, using the competition to adjust to their new programs to prepare for the Grand Prix.</p>
<p>In truth, Hansol is terrified. And this is just the beginning of the season.</p>
<p>The nerves paralyze him that he ends up falling on two of his jumps in the short program. He manages to skate better in the free, despite a couple of step-outs, and at the end of the week, he sat in ninth place.</p>
<p>“It’s better than your placements last year,” Yuta points out, though he’s frowning at his own protocols as they speak. “I could have sworn I did not under-rotate that quad. I need a word with that judge …”</p>
<p>“At least you got sixth place,” Hansol points out with a huff.</p>
<p>“Hey, no comparing.” Yuta chuckles, lacing their fingers together as they step out of the locker room. When Hansol doesn’t budge, the younger one chuckles again. “It’s one bad competition. There’ll be a better one, I promise.”</p>
<p>There will be a better competition for him, Hansol repeats to himself. It’s just the beginning of the season, after all. This is always, as Coach Joanne always told him, a lesson learned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next thing Hansol knows is that it’s already the end of September. He, Taeyong, and Jaehyun pack their bags and fly back to Seoul for the second qualifying competition for the Olympics.</p>
<p>“Think you can defend your gold medal back there?” Coach Joanne asks him when they end their session the day before his flight.</p>
<p>Hansol doesn’t even want to think about it. The high of winning a gold medal in a domestic competition had long faded. Now comes the pressure of making sure he’s consistent. And Hansol and consistency don’t usually end up in the same sentence.</p>
<p>“Just do your best,” Yuta says, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves the VSC for the airport. “Easier said than done, but it’s possible.”</p>
<p><em>Right</em>. As long as he puts himself in the right mindset, the performance will follow.</p>
<p>The Mokdong Ice Rink, like before, is packed when they arrive for the first day of practice. The juniors are already on ice, with Jeno talking to his coach and Donghyuck doing a run-through of his program without the jumps. Hansol catches Jisung land a triple axel, and his chest swells with pride.</p>
<p>“Remember when we were still that young?” Jaehyun sighs, setting his bag down on one of the seats.</p>
<p>Hansol grunts, remembering how he was all limbs and struggling to jump a triple axel. Then again, those were also the least pressuring times of his life, and he was still wide-eyed about making it big. “What would I give to be back in those kids’ shoes again, huh?” he remarks.</p>
<p>Beside him, Taeyong hums, suddenly looking smaller than usual. “Tell me about it.”</p>
<p>After their initial conversation, they were instructed to prepare after the Zamboni cleans the rink. They spend the rest of the waiting time taking selfies and posting them on their social media accounts.</p>
<p>By the time they were called to the rink, they fall into silence as they lace up, step into the rink, and set up their phones so they can record their run-throughs for consultation with their coaches. Hansol sets up his phone, taking his time because it’s Taeyong’s music that plays throughout the rink first.</p>
<p>The press and the fans have returned midway through Taeyong’s run-through. As usual, Taeyong doesn’t do many jumps, lest he retreats to his mind and makes too many mistakes. From his peripheral vision, he could already see Jaehyun making concerned glances at Taeyong’s direction.</p>
<p>Fortunately, their run-through finishes without a hitch, although several reporters crowd to them for a couple of interview questions. Hansol gets the short end of the stick as far as press coverage is concerned, but he feels more sorry for Taeyong, who gets asked questions about possibly being the first Korean man to win an Olympic gold medal in figure skating.</p>
<p>Jaehyun eventually steers Taeyong away from the reports and toward the locker room, while Hansol trails behind, making sure no one follows them. He and his friends sigh in relief when no one else follows them, but Hansol quickly opens the door and lets Jaehyun and Taeyong inside just in case.</p>
<p>There’s a chorus of “Hyung!” all over the locker room. Suddenly, they’re being tackled in a hug by the junior skaters. Hansol, in particular, gets an armful of Jisung, who’s jumping and grinning that it’s so adorable.</p>
<p>Soon, they’re all gathered in a barbeque restaurant, with the juniors grilling meat for them. Tons of stories are shared among each other, from their experiences with coaches, the latest gossip about other skaters, and their plans for the rest of the season.</p>
<p>Hansol finds it strange, that all of them are competing for the same dream yet could go out for dinner and be friends like it’s nothing. Then again, he had felt the same way with Taeyong and Jaehyun, so this should be normal.</p>
<p>They’re all just kids. And besides, not all of them will make it, but he’s sure that they’re going to root for each other in the end. They’re still Team Korea, after all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, by the time the competition started, everyone starts paying less attention to each other and more on their performance. The locker room is silent as they change into their costumes and do makeup, while the others do their best to step away when some skaters do image training.</p>
<p>Hansol is in the last group, along with Taeyong, Jaehyun, Donghyuck, and Jeno. The worst part is that he gets to skate last, which doesn’t help his nerves at all. He’d rather be the first to skate in the group to get it over with.</p>
<p>He sighs as he retreats to the bathroom as Donghyuck takes to the ice after their warm-up. He plugs on his earphones, closes his eyes, and imagines he is anywhere but in Mokdong.</p>
<p>Instead, he’s in the Gangneung Ice Arena, where he belongs.</p>
<p>He’s claiming it. He’s going to be there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s not a perfect performance, but Hansol will take it.</p>
<p>After all, a bronze medal is still a podium finish, and he kind of owes Taeyong one after the younger one helped him adjust his takeoff technique from the first qualifying competition.</p>
<p>Beside him is Donghyuck, who looks just as surprised to be part of the podium after finishing a few points off it last time. He and Hansol share gazes, and the younger one’s wide-eyed smile reminds him of the time he had finished off the podium for the first time.</p>
<p>Hansol can’t help but smile back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are appreciated. Please do leave a comment or talk to me on <a href="https://curiouscat.me/loveseosweet">CuriousCat</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/loveseosweet/">Twitter</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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